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RUDYARD KIPLING
Volume XIX
KIM
THE WRITINGS IN PROSE AND VERSE OF
RUDYARD KIPLING
KIM
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1902
HAMMAS-MAS
ZAM-ZAMMAH
THE WRITINGS IN PROSE AND VERSE OF
RUDYARD KIPLING
KIM
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1902
Copyright, /goo, /go/, rgo2.
By Rudyard Kipling
PR.
ILLUSTRATIONS
ZAM-ZAMMAH Frontispiece
THE LAMA 22
MAHBUB ALI 34
THE RESSALDAR 86
ON THE ROAD 100
KIM AND THE LETTER-WRITER 166
HURRY CHUNDER MOOKERJEE 268
THE JAT AND HIS SICK CHILD 308
THE WOMAN OF SHAMLEGH 418
THE END OF THE SEARCH 472
I
Oh ye who tread the Narrow Way
By Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,
Be gentle when the heathen pray
To Buddha at Kamakura!
HE sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride
the gun Zam-Zammah on her brick plat-
form opposite the old Ajaib-Gher — the Wonder
House, as the natives called the Lahore Museum.
Who hold Zam-Zammah, that " fire-breathing
dragon," hold the Punjab; for the great green-
bronze piece is always first of the conqueror's loot.
There was some justification for Kim, — he had
kicked Lala Dinanath's boy off the trunnions, —
since the English held the Punjab and Kim was
English. Though he was burned black as any
native; though he spoke the vernacular by prefer-
ence, and his mother-tongue in a clipped, uncertain
sing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect
equality with the small boys of the bazar; Kim was
white — a poor white of the very poorest. The
half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked
opium, and pretended to keep a second-hand fur-
3
KIM
niture shop by the square where the cheap cabs
wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's
mother's sister; but his mother had been nursemaid
in a colonel's family and had married Kimball
O'Hara, a young colour-sergeant of the Mavericks,
an Irish regiment. He afterwards took a post on
the Sind, Punjab, and Delhi Railway, and his
regiment went home without him. The wife died
of cholera in Ferozepore, and O'Hara fell to drink
and loafing up and down the line with the keen-
eyed three-year-old baby. Societies and chaplains,
anxious for the child, tried to catch him, but
O'Hara drifted away, till he came across the woman
who took opium and learned the taste from her,
and died as poor whites die in India. His estate
at death consisted of three papers — one he called
his ne varietur because those words were written
below his signature thereon, and another his "clear-
ance-certificate." The third was Kim's birth-cer-
tificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his
glorious opium hours, would yet make little Kim-
ball a man. On no account was Kim to part with
them, for they belonged to a great piece of magic
— such magic as men practised over yonder behind
the Museum, in the big blue and white Jadoo-
Gher — the Magic House, as we name the Masonic
Lodge. It would, he said, all come right some
day, and Kim's horn would be exalted between
pillars — monstrous pi liars — of beauty and strength.
4
KIM
The Colonel himself, riding on a horse, at the head
of the finest regiment in the world, would attend
to Kim, — little Kim that should have been better
off than his father. Nine hundred first-class devils,
whose god was a Red Bull on a green field, would
attend to Kim, if they had not forgotten O'Hara
— poor O'Hara that was gang-foreman on the
Ferozepore line. Then he would weep bitterly in
the broken rush chair on the verandah. So it came
about after his death that the woman sewed parch-
ment, paper, and birth-certificate into a leather
amulet-case which she strung round Kim's neck.
" And some day," she said, confusedly remember-
ing O'Hara's prophecies, " there will come for you
a great Red Bull on a green field, and the Colonel
riding on his tall horse, yes, and" — dropping into
English — " nine hundred devils."
"Ah," said Kim, "I shall remember. A Red
Bull and a Colonel on a horse will come, but first,
my father said, come the two men making ready
the ground for these matters. That is how, my
father said, they always did; and it is always so
when men work magic."
If the woman had sent Kim up to the local
Jadoo-Gher with those papers, he would, of course,
have been taken over by the Provincial Lodge and
sent to the Masonic Orphanage in the Hills; but
what she had heard of magic she distrusted. Kim,
too, held views of his own. As he reached the
5
KIM
years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid mission-
aries and white men of serious aspect who asked
who he was, and what he did. For Kim did noth-
ing with an immense success. True, he knew the
wonderful walled city of Lahore from the Delhi
Gate to the outer Fort Ditch ; was hand in glove
with men who led lives stranger than anything
Haroun al Raschid dreamed of; and he lived in a
life wild as that of the Arabian Nights, but mis-
sionaries and secretaries of charitable societies could
not see the beauty of it. His nickname through
the wards was " Little Friend of all the World";
and very often, being lithe and inconspicuous, he
executed commissions by night on the crowded
housetops for sleek and shiny young men of fashion.
It was intrigue, of course, — he knew that much, as
he had known all evil since he could speak, — but
what he loved was the game for its own sake —
the stealthy prowl through the dark gullies and
lanes, the crawl up a water-pipe, the sights and
sounds of the women's world on the flat roofs,
and the headlong flight from housetop to housetop
under cover of the hot dark. Then there were
holy men, ash-smeared y^^?//rj- by their brick shrines
under the trees at the riverside, with whom he was
quite familiar — greeting them as they returned
from begging-tours, and, when no one was by, eat-
ing from the same dish. The woman who looked
after him insisted with tears that he should wear
6
KIM
European clothes — trousers, a shirt, and a battered
hat. Kim found it easier to slip into Hindu or
Mahommedan garb when engaged on certain busi-
nesses. One of the young men of fashion — he
who was found dead at the bottom of a well on
the night of the earthquake — had once given him
a complete suit of Hindu kit, the costume of a low-
caste street boy, and Kim stored it in a secret place
under some baulks in Nila Ram's timber-yard,
beyond the Punjab High Court, where the fragrant
deodar logs lie seasoning after they have driven
down the Ravee. When there was business or
frolic afoot, Kim would use his properties, return-
ing at dawn to the verandah, all tired out from
shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or
yelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was
food in the house, more often there was not, and
Kim went out again to eat with his native friends.
As he drummed his heels against Zam-Zam-
mah he turned now and again from his king-of-the-
castle game with little Chota Lai and Abdullah the
sweetmeat-seller's son, to make a rude remark to
the native policeman on guard over rows of shoes
at the Museum door. The big Punjabi grinned
tolerantly: he knew Kim of old. So did the
water-carrier, sluicing water on the dry road from
his goat-skin bag. So did Jawahir Singh, the
Museum carpenter, bent over new packing-cases.
So did everybody in sight except the peasants
7
KIM
from the country, hurrying up to the Wonder
House to view the things that men made in their
own province and elsewhere. The Museum was
given up to Indian arts and manufactures, and any-
body who sought wisdom could ask the curator to
explain.
"Off! Off! Let me up!" cried Abdullah,
climbing up Zam-Zammah's wheel.
" Thy father was a pastry-cook, Thy mother stole
the ghi" sang Kim. "All Mussalmans fell off
Zam-Zammah long ago ! "
"Let;//£"up!" shrilled little Chota Lai in his gilt-
embroidered cap. His father was worth perhaps
half a million sterling, but India is the only demo-
cratic land in the world.
" The Hindus fell off Zam-Zammah too. The
Mussalmans pushed them off. Thy father was a
pastry-cook — "
He stopped; for there shuffled round the corner,
from the roaring Motee Bazar, such a man as Kim,
who thought he knew all castes, had never seen.
He was nearly six feet high, dressed in fold upon
fold of dingy stuff like horse-blanketing, and not
one fold of it could Kim refer to any known trade
or profession. At his belt hung a long open-
work iron pencase and a wooden rosary such as
holy men wear. On his head was a gigantic sort
of tam-o'-shanter. His face was yellow and
wrinkled, like that of Fook Shing, the Chinese
8
KIM
bootmaker in the bazar. His eyes turned up at
the corners and looked like little slits of onyx.
" Who is that? " said Kim to his companions.
" Perhaps it is a man," said Abdullah, finger in
mouth, staring.
" Without doubt," returned Kim; "but he is no
man of India that / have ever seen."
"A priest, perhaps," said Chota Lai, spying
the rosary. " See ! He goes into the Wonder
House ! "
"Nay, nay," said the policeman, shaking his
head. " I do not understand your talk." The
constable spoke Punjabi. " Oh, The Friend of all
the World, what does he say ? "
"Send him hither," said Kim, dropping from
Zam-Zammah, flourishing his bare heels. " He is
a foreigner, and thou art a buffalo."
The man turned helplessly and drifted towards
the boys. He was old, and his woollen gaberdine
still reeked of the stinking artemisia of the moun-
tain passes.
" O Children, what is that big house ? " he said
in very fair Urdu.
" The Ajaib-Gher, the Wonder House ! " Kim
gave him no title — such as Lala or Mian. He
could not divine the man's creed.
"Ah! The Wonder House ! Can any enter?"
" It is written above the door — all can enter."
" Without payment ? "
9
KIM
" I go in and out. / am no banker," laughed
Kim.
" Alas ! I am an old man. I did not know."
Then, fingering his rosary, he half turned to the
Museum.
" What is your caste *? Where is your house *?
Have you come far ? " Kim asked.
"I came by Kulu — from beyond the Kailas —
but what know you ^ From the hills where " — he
sighed — " the air and water are fresh and cool."
" Aha ! Khitai (a Chinaman)," said Abdullah
proudly. Fook Shing had once chased him out
of his shop for spitting at the joss above the
boots.
"Pahari (a hillman)," said little Chota Lai.
"Ay, child — a hillman from hills thou'lt
never see. Didst hear of Bhotiyal (Tibet) ? I am
no Khitai, but a Bhotiya (Tibetan), since you
must know — a lama — or, say a guru in your
tongue."
" A guru from Tibet," said Kim. " I have not
seen such a man. They be Hindus in Tibet,
then ? "
" We be followers of the Middle Way, living
in peace in our lamaseries, and I go to see the
Four Holy Places before I die. Now do you,
who are children, know as much as I do who am
old." He smiled benignantly on the boys.
" Hast thou eaten ? "
lo
KIM
He fumbled in his bosom and drew forth a
worn wooden begging-bowl. The boys nodded.
All priests of their acquaintance begged.
" I do not wish to eat yet." He turned his head
like an old tortoise in the sunlight. " Is it true
that there are many images in the Wonder House
of Lahore ? " He repeated the last words as one
making sure of an address.
" That is true," said Abdullah. " It is full of
heathen huts. Thou also art an idolater."
"Never mind him^' said Kim. "That is the
Government's house and there is no idolatry in it,
but only a Sahib with a white beard. Come with
me and I will show."
" Strange priests eat boys," whispered Chota
Lai.
" And he is a stranger and a hut-parast (idola-
ter)," said Abdullah, the Mohammedan.
Kim laughed. " He is new. Run to your mothers'
laps, and be safe. Come ! "
Kim clicked round the self-registering turnstile;
the old man followed and halted amazed. In the
entrance-hall stood the larger figures of the Greco-
Buddhist sculptures done, savants know how long
since, by forgotten workmen whose hands were
feeling, and not unskilfully, for the mysteriously
transmitted Grecian touch. There were hundreds
of pieces, friezes of figures in relief, fragments of
statues and slabs crowded with figures that had
11
KIM
encrusted the brick walls of the Buddhist stupas
and viharas of the North Country and now, dug
up and labelled, made the pride of the Museum.
In open-mouthed wonder the lama turned to this
and that, and finally checked in rapt attention
before a large alto-relief representing a coronation
or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha, The Master
was represented seated on a lotus the petals of
which were so deeply undercut as to show almost
detached. Round Him was an adoring hierarchy
of kings, elders, and old-time Buddhas, Below
were lotus-covered waters with fishes and water-
birds. Two butterfly-winged dewas held a wreath
over His head; above them another pair supported
an umbrella surmounted by the jewelled headdress
of the Bodhisat,
"The Lord ! The Lord! It is Sakya Muni him-
self," the lama half sobbed ; and under his breath
began the wonderful Buddhist invocation : —
" To Him the Way — the Law — Apart —
Whom Maya held beneath her heart
Ananda" s Lord — the Bodhisat ^
" And He is here I The Most Excellent Law is
here also. My pilgrimage is well begun. And
what work I What work I "
"Yonder is the Sahib," said Kim, and dodged
sideways among the cases of the arts and manu-
factures wing. A white-bearded Englishman was
12
KIM
looking at the lama, who gravely turned and sa-
luted him and after some fumbling drew forth a
note-book and a scrap of paper.
"Yes, that is my name," smiling at the clumsy,
childish print.
" One of us who had made pilgrimage to the
Holy Places — he is now Abbot of the Lung-Cho
Monastery — gave it me," stammered the lama.
" He spoke of these." His lean hand moved
tremulously round.
" Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet, Here
be the images, and I am here " — he glanced at the
lama's face — "to gather knowledge. Come to my
office awhile." The old man was trembling with
excitement.
The office was but a little wooden cubicle par-
titioned off from the sculpture-lined gallery. Kim
laid himself down, his ear against a crack in the
heat-split cedar door, and, following his instinct,
stretched out to listen and watch.
Most of the talk was altogether above his head.
The lama, haltingly at first, spoke to the curator
of his own lamasery, the Such-zen, opposite the
Painted Rocks, four months' march away. The
curator brought out a huge book of photos and
showed him that very place, perched on its crag,
overlooking the gigantic valley of many-hued
strata.
"Ay, ay! " The lama mounted a pair of horn-
13
KIM
rimmed spectacles of Chinese work. " Here is the
little door through which we bring wood before
winter. And thou — the English know of these
things ? He who is now Abbot of Lung-Cho told
me, but I did not believe. The Lord — the Excel-
lent One — He has honour here too? And His
life is known ? "
" It is all carven upon the stones. Come and
see, if thou art rested."
Out shuffled the lama to the main hall, and, the
curator beside him, went through the collection with
the reverence of a devotee and the appreciative
instinct of a craftsman.
Incident by incident in the beautiful story he
identified on the blurred stone, puzzled here and
there by the unfamiliar Greek convention, but
delighted as a child at each new trove. Where
the sequence failed, as in the Annunciation, the
curator supplied it from his mound of books —
French and German, with photographs and repro-
ductions.
Here was the devout Asita, the pendant of
Simeon in the Christian story, holding the Holy
Child on his knee while mother and father listened;
and here were incidents in the legend of the
cousin Devadatta. Here was the wicked woman
who accused the Master of impurity, all con-
founded; here was the teaching in the Deer-park;
the miracle that stunned the fire-worshippers;
KIM
here was the Bodhisat in royal state as a prince;
the miraculous birth; the death at Kusinagara,
where the weak disciple fainted; while there were
almost countless repetitions of the meditation
under the Bodhi tree; and the adoration of the
alms-bowl was everywhere. In a few minutes the
curator saw that his guest was no mere bead-
telling mendicant, but a scholar of parts. And they
went at it all over again, the lama taking snufF,
wiping his spectacles, and talking at railway
speed in a bewildering mixture of Urdu and
Tibetan. He had heard of the travels of the
Chinese pilgrims, Fo-Hian and Hwen-Thiang,
and was anxious to know if there was any
translation of their record. He drew in his
breath as he turned helplessly over the pages of
Beal and Stanislas Julien. " 'Tis all here. A
treasure locked." Then he composed himself
reverently to listen to fragments, hastily rendered
into Urdu. For the first time he heard of the
labours of European scholars, who by the help
of these and a hundred other documents have
identified the Holy Places of Buddhism. Then
he was shown a mighty map, spotted and traced
with yellow. The brown finger followed the
curator's pencil from point to point. Here was
Kapilavastu, here the Middle Kingdom, and
here Mahabodi, the Mecca of Buddhism; and
here was Kusinagara, sad place of the Holy
15
KIM
One's death. The old man bowed his head over
the sheets in silence for a while, and the curator
lit another pipe. Kim had fallen asleep. When
he waked, the talk, still in spate, was more within
his comprehension.
"And thus it was, O Fountain of Wisdom,
that I decided to go to the Holy Places which
His foot had trod — to the Birthplace, even to
Kapila; then to Maha Bodhi, which is Buddh
Gaya — to the Monastery — to the Deer-park — to
the place of His death."
The lama lowered his voice. "And I come
here alone. For five — seven — eighteen — forty
years it was in my mind that the Old Law was
not well followed ; being overlaid, as thou know-
est, with devildom, charms, and idolatry. Even
as the child outside said but now. Ay, even as
the child said, with but-parasti"
" So it comes with all faiths."
" Thinkest thou *? The books of my lamasery
I read, and they were dried pith ; and the
later ritual with which we of the Reformed Law
have cumbered ourselves — that, too, had no worth
to these old eyes. Even the followers of the
Excellent One are at feud on feud with one
another. It is all illusion. Ay, maya^ illusion.
But I have another desire" — the seamed yellow
face drew within three inches of the curator, and
the long forefinger nail tapped on the table.
16
KIM
"Your scholars, by these books, have followed
the Blessed Feet in all their wanderings; but
there are things which they have not sought out.
I know nothing, — nothing do I know, — but I go
to free myself from the Wheel of Things by a
broad and open road." He smiled with most
simple triumph. " As a pilgrim to the Holy Places
I acquire merit. But there is more. Listen to a
true thing. When our gracious Lord, being as
yet a youth, sought a mate, men said, in His
father's court, that He was too tender for marriage.
Thou knowest *? "
The curator nodded; wondering what would
come next.
" So they made the triple trial of strength
against all comers. And at the test of the Bow,
our Lord, first breaking that which they gave
Him, called for such a bow as none might bend.
Thou knowest '? "
" It is written. I have read."
" And, overshooting all other marks, the arrow
passed far and far beyond sight. At the last it
fell; and, where it touched earth, there broke out
a stream which presently became a River, whose
nature, by our Lord's beneficence, and that merit
He acquired ere He freed Himself, is that whoso
bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of
sin."
" So it is written," said the curator sadly.
17
KIM
The lama drew a long breath. " Where is
that River? Fountain of Wisdom, where fell the
arrow ? "
"Alas, my brother, I do not know," said the
curator.
" Nay, if it please thee to forget — the one thing
only that thou hast not told me. Surely thou
must know ? See, I am an old man ! I ask with
my head between thy feet, O Fountain of
Wisdom. We know He drew the bow I We
knoiv the arrow fell I We knoic the stream gushed I
Where, then, is the River '? My dream told me to
find it. So I came. I am here. But where is the
River?"
" If I knew, think you I would not cry it
aloud ? "
" By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of
Things," the lama went on, unheeding. "The
River of the Arrow I Think again 1 Some little
stream, maybe — dried in the heats? But the
Holy One would never so cheat an old man."
" I do not know. I do not know."
The lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face
once more a handsbreadth from the Englishman's,
" I see thou dost not know. Not being of the Law,
the matter is hid from thee."
" Ay — hidden — hidden."
" We are both bound, thou and I, my brother.
But I " — he rose with a sweep of the soft thick
18
KIM
drapery — "I go to cut myself free. Come
also ! "
" I am bound," said the curator. " But whither
goest thou ? "
" First to Kashi (Benares) : where else ? There
I shall meet one of the pure faith in a Jain
temple of that city. He also is a Seeker in secret,
and from him haply I may learn. Maybe he
will go with me to Buddh Gaya. Thence north
and west to Kapilavastu, and there will I seek for
the River. Nay, I will seek everywhere as I go —
for the place is not known where the arrow fell."
"And how wilt thou go? It is a far cry to
Delhi, and farther to Benares."
"By road and the trains. From Pathankot,
having left the Hills, I came hither in a te-rain. It
goes swiftly. At first I was amazed to see those
tall poles by the side of the road snatching up and
snatching up their threads," — he illustrated the
stoop and whirl of a telegraph-pole flashing past
the train. " But later I was cramped and desired
to walk, as I am used."
"And thou art sure of thy road?" said the
curator.
" Oh, for that one but asks a question and pays
money, and the appointed persons despatch all
to the appointed place. That much I knew in
my lamasery from sure report," said the lama
proudly.
19
KIM
" And when dost thou go ? " The curator
smiled at the mixture of old-world piety and
modern progress that is the note of India to-day.
" As soon as may be. I follow the places of
His life till I come to the River of the Arrow.
There is, moreover, a written paper of the hours
of the trains that go south."
" And for food ? " Lamas, as a rule, have good
store of money somewhere about them, but the
curator wished to make sure.
" For the journey, I take up the Master's
begging-bowl. Yes. Even as He went so go I,
forsaking the ease of my monastery. There was
with me when I left the Hills a chela (disciple) who
begged for me as the Rule demands, but halting in
Kulu awhile a fever took him and he died. I have
now no chela, but I will take the alms-bowl and
thus enable the charitable to acquire merit." He
nodded his head valiantly. Learned doctors of
a lamasery do not beg, but the lama was an
enthusiast in this quest.
" Be it so," said the curator, smiling. " Suffer
me now to acquire merit. We be craftsmen to-
gether, thou and I. Here is a new book of white
English paper: here be sharpened pencils two and
three — thick and thin, all good for a scribe. Now
lend me thy spectacles."
The curator looked through them. They were
heavily scratched, but the power was almost exactly
20
KIM
that of his own pair, which he slid into the lama's
hand, saying: " Try these."
"A feather! A very feather upon the face!"
The old man turned his head delightedly and
wrinkled up his nose. '' How scarcely do I feel
them ! How clearly do I see ! "
" They be bilmir — crystal and will never scratch.
May they help thee to thy River, for they are
thine."
" I will take them and the pencils and the white
note-book," said the lama, "as a sign of friendship be-
tween priest and priest — and now — " he fumbled
at his belt, detached the open iron-work pencase,
and laid it on the curator's table. " That is for a
memory between thee and me — my pencase. It is
something old — even as I am."
It was a piece of ancient design, Chinese, of an
iron that is not smelted these days; and the col-
lector's heart in the curator's bosom had gone out
to it from the first. For no persuasion would the
lama resume his gift.
" When I return, having found the River, I will
bring thee a written picture of the Padma Samthora
— such as I used to make on silk at the lamasery.
Yes — and of the Wheel of Life," he chuckled,
" for we be craftsmen together, thou and I."
The curator would have detained him : they
are few in the world who still have the secret of
the conventional brush-pen Buddhist pictures which
21
KIM
are, as it were, half written and half drawn. But
the lama strode out, head high in air, and pausing
an instant before the great statue of a Bodhisat in
meditation, brushed through the turnstiles.
Kim followed like a shadow. What he had
overheard excited him wildly. This man was
entirely new to all his experience, and he meant to
Investigate further: precisely as he would have
investigated a new building or a strange festival in
Lahore city. The lama was his trove, and he
purposed to take possession. Kim's mother had
been Irish too.
The old man halted by Zam-Zammah and
looked round till his eye fell on Kim. The
inspiration of his pilgrimage had left him for
awhile, and he felt old, forlorn, and very empty.
" Do not sit under that gun," said the policeman
loftily.
" Huh ! Owl ! " was Kim's retort on the lama's
behalf " Sit under that gun if it please thee.
When didst thou steal the milk-woman's slippers,
Dunnoo*?"^
That was an utterly unfounded charge sprung on
the spur of the moment, but it silenced Dunnoo,
who knew that Kim's clear yell could call up
legions of bad bazar boys if need arose.
" And whom didst thou worship within *? " said
Kim affably, squatting in the shade beside the
lama.
22
THE LAMA
KIM
are, as it were, halt written and half drawn. But
the lama strode out, head high in air, and pausing
an instant before the great statue of a Bodhisat in
meditation, brushed through the turnstiles.
Kim followed like a shadow. What he had
overheard excited him wildly. This man was
entirely new to all his experience, and he meant to
investigate further: precisely as he would have
investigated a new building or a strange festival in
Lahore city. The lama was his trove, and he
purposed to take possession. Kim's mother had
been Irish too.
The old man halted by Zam-Zammah and
looked round till his eye fell on Kim. The
inspiration of his pilgrimage had left him for
awhile, and he felt old, forlorn, and very empty.
" Do not sit under that gun," said the policeman
loftily.
" Huh ! Owl I " was Kim's retort on
behalf "Sit under that gun if it pi ice.
When didst thou steal the milk-woman's slippers,
Dunnoo*?",
That was an utterly unfounded charge sprung on
the spur of the moment, but it silenced Dunnoo,
who knew that Kim's clear yell could call up
legions of bad bazar boys if need arose.
"And whom didst thou worship within*?" said
Kim affably, squatting in the shade beside- f^^
lama.
KIM
" I worshipped none, child. I bowed before the
Excellent Law."
Kim accepted this new god without emotion.
He knew already a few score.
" And what dost thou do ? "
" I beg. I remember now it is long since I
have eaten or drunk. What is the custom of
charity in this town? In silence, as we do of
Tibet, or speaking aloud ? "
" Those who beg in silence starve in silence,"
said Kim, quoting a native proverb. The lama
tried to rise, but sank back again, sighing for his
disciple, dead in far-away Kulu. Kim watched —
head to one side, considering and interested.
" Give me the bowl. I know the people of this
city — all who are charitable. Give, and I will
bring it back filled." Simply as a child the old
man handed him the bowl.
" Rest thou. I know the people."
He trotted off to the open shop of a h/njrf, a
low-caste vegetable-seller, which lay opposite the
belt-tramway line down the Motee Bazar. She
knew Kim of old.
" Oho, hast thou turned yogi with thy begging-
bowl ? " she cried.
" Nay," said Kim proudly. " There is a new
priest in the city — a man such as I have never
seen."
"Old priest — young tiger," said the woman
23
KIM
angrily. " I am tired of new priests I They settle
on our wares like flies. Is the father of my son a
well of charity to give to all who ask ? "
" No," said Kim. " Thy man is rather yagi (bad-
tempered) than yogi (a holy man). But this priest
is new. The Sahib in the Wonder House has
talked to him like a brother. O my mother, fill
me this bowl. He waits."
" That bowl indeed ! That cow-bellied basket I
Thou hast as much grace as the holy bull of
Shiv. He has taken the best of a basket of
onions already, this morn ; and forsooth, I must
fill thy bowl. He comes here again."
The huge, mouse-coloured Brahminee bull of
the ward was shouldering his way through the
many-coloured crowd, a stolen plantain hanging
out of his mouth. He headed straight for the
shop, well knowing his privileges as a sacred beast,
lowered his head, and puffed heavily along the line
of baskets ere making his choice. Up flew Kim's
hard little heel and caught him on his moist blue
nose. He snorted indignantly, and walked away
across the tram rails, his hump quivering with rage.
" See ! I have saved more than the bowl will
cost thrice over. Now, mother, a little rice and
some dried fish atop — yes, and some vegetable
curry."
A growl came out of the back of the shop,
where a man lay.
24
KIM
" He drove away the bull," said the woman in
an undertone. " It is good to give to the poor."
She took the bowl and returned it full of hot rice.
"But my yogi IS not a cow," said Kim gravely,
making a hole with his fingers in the top of the
mound. " A little curry is good, and a fried cake,
and a morsel of conserve would please him, I
think."
" It is a hole as big as thy head," said the woman
fretfully. But she filled it, none the less, with good,
steaming vegetable curry, clapped a fried cake
atop, and a morsel of clarified butter on the cake,
dabbed a lump of sour tamarind conserve at the
side ; and Kim looked at the load lovingly.
" That is good. When I am in the bazar the
bull shall not come to this house. He is a bold
beggarman."
" And thou *? " laughed the woman. "But speak
well of bulls. Hast thou not told me that some day
a Red Bull will come out of a field to help thee "?
Now hold all straight and ask for the holy man's
blessing upon me. Perhaps, too, he knows a cure
for my daughter's sore eyes. Ask him that also,
O thou Little Friend of all the World."
But Kim had danced off ere the end of the
sentence, dodging pariah dogs and hungry ac-
quaintances.
" Thus do we beg who know the way of it,"
said he proudly to the lama, who opened his eyes
25
KIM
at the contents of the bowl. "Eat now and — I
will eat with thee. Ohe bhisiie!" he called to
the water-carrier, sluicing the crotons by the
Museum. " Give water here. We men are
thirsty."
" We men! " said the bhistie^ laughing. " Is one
skinful enough for such a pair ? Drink then, in the
name of the Compassionate."
He loosed a thin stream into Kim's hands,
who drank native fashion; but the lama must
needs pull out a cup from his inexhaustible upper
draperies and drink ceremonially.
" Pardesi (a foreigner)," Kim explained, as the
old man delivered in an unknown tongue what
was evidently a blessing.
They ate together in great content, clearing
the beggar's bowl. Then the lama took snufFfrom
a portentous wooden snuff-gourd, fingered his rosary
awhile, and so dropped into the easy sleep of age,
as the shadow of Zam-Zammah grew long.
Kim loafed over to the nearest tobacco-seller,
a rather lively young Mohammedan woman, and
begged a rank cigar of the brand that they sell
to students of the Punjab University who copy
English customs. Then he smoked and thought,
knees to chin, under the belly of the gun, and the
outcome of his thoughts was a sudden and stealthy
departure in the direction of Nila Ram's timber-yard.
The lama did not wake till the evening life of
26
KIM
the city had begun with lamp-lighting and the
return of white-robed clerks and subordinates from
the Government offices. He stared dizzily in all
directions, but none looked at him save a Hindu
urchin in a dirty turban and Isabella-coloured
clothes. Suddenly he bowed his head on his
knees and wailed.
" What is this ? " said the boy, standing before
him. " Hast thou been robbed ? "
" It is my new chela (my disciple) that is gone
away from me, and I know not where he is."
"And what like of man was thy disciple*?"
" It was a boy who came to me in place of
him who died, on account of the merit which I
had gained when I bowed before the Law within
there." He pointed towards the Museum. " He
came upon me to show me a road which I had
lost. He led me into the Wonder House, and by
his talk emboldened to speak to the Keeper of
the Images, so that I was cheered and made
strong. And when I was faint with hunger he
begged for me, as would a chela for his teacher.
Suddenly was he sent. Suddenly has he gone
away. It was in my mind to have taught him the
Law upon the road to Benares."
Kim stood amazed at this, because he had over-
heard the talk in the Museum, and knew that the
old man was speaking the truth, which is a thing
a native seldom presents to a stranger.
27
KIM
" But I see now that he was but sent upon a
purpose. By this I know that I shall find a
certain River tor which I seek."
" The River of the Arrow ? " said Kim, with a
superior smile.
"Is this yet another Sending?" cried the lama.
" To none have I spoken of my search, save to the
Priest of the Images. Who art thou V "
" Thy chela" said Kim simply, sitting on his
heels. " I have never seen any one like to thee in
all this my life. I go with thee to Benares. And,
too, I think that so old a man as thou, speaking
truth to chance-met people at dusk, is in great
need of a disciple."
" But the River — the River of the Arrow *? "
" Oh, that I heard when thou wast speaking to
the Englishman. I lay against the door."
The lama sighed. "I thought thou hadst been
a guide permitted. Such things fall sometimes —
but I am not worthy. Thou dost not, then, know
the River ? "
"Not I." Kim laughed uneasily. "I go to
look for — for a bull — a Red Bull on a green field
who shall help me." Boylike, if an acquaintance
had a scheme, Kim was quite ready with one of
his own ; and, boylike, he had really thought for
as much as twenty minutes at a time of his father's
prophecy.
" To what, child ? " said the lama.
28
KIM
"God knows, but so my father told me. I
heard thy talk in the Wonder House of all those
new strange places in the Hills, and if one so old
and so little — so used to truth-telling — may go
out for the small matter of a river, it seemed to
me that I too must go a-travelling. If it is our fate
to find those things we shall find them — thou, thy
river; and I, my bull, and the strong Pillars and
some other matters that I forget."
"It is not pillars but a Wheel from which I
would be free," said the lama.
" That is all one. Perhaps they will make me
a king," said Kim, serenely prepared for any-
thing,
" I will teach thee other and better desires upon
the road," the lama replied in the voice of authority.
" Let us go to Benares."
" Not by night. Thieves are abroad. Wait till
the day."
" But there is no place to sleep." The old man
was used to the order of his monastery, and though
he slept on the ground, as the Rule decrees, pre-
ferred a decency in these things.
"We shall get good lodging at the Kashmir
Serai," said Kim, laughing at his perplexity. " I
have a friend there. Come ! "
The hot and crowded bazars blazed with light
as they made their way through the press of all
the races in Upper India, and the lama mooned
29
KIM
through it like a man in a dream. It was his
first experience of a large manufacturing city, and
the crowded tram-car with its continually squealing
brakes frightened him. Half pushed, half towed,
he arrived at the high gate of the Kashmir Serai:
that huge open square over against the railway
station, surrounded with arched cloisters where the
camel and horse caravans put up on their return
from Central Asia. Here were all manner of
Northern folk, tending tethered ponies and kneel-
ing camels; loading and unloading bales and
bundles; drawing water for the evening meal at
the creaking well-windlasses ; piling grass before
the shrieking, wild-eyed stallions; cuffing the
surly caravan dogs; paying off camel-drivers;
taking on new grooms; swearing, shouting, argu-
ing, and chaffering in the packed square. The
cloisters, reached by three or four masonry steps,
made a haven of refuge around this turbulent sea.
Most of them were rented to traders, as we rent
the arches of a viaduct ; the space between pillar
and pillar being bricked or boarded off into rooms,
which were guarded by heavy wooden doors
and cumbrous native padlocks. Locked doors
showed that the owner was away, and a few rude
— sometimes very rude — chalk or paint scratches
told where he had gone. Thus: "Lutuf UUah is
gone to Kurdistan." Below, in coarse verse : " O
Allah, who sufferest lice to live on the coat of a
30
KIM
Kabuli, why hast thou allowed this louse Lutuf to
live so long?"
Kim, fending the lama between excited men
and excited beasts, sidled along the cloisters to the
far end, nearest the railway station, where Mahbub
Ali, the horse-trader, lived when he came in from
that mysterious land beyond the Passes of the
North.
Kim had had many dealings with Mahbub in
his little life, — especially between his tenth and his
thirteenth year, — and the big burly Afghan, his
beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly
and did not wish his gray hairs to show), knew
the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimes he would
tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing what-
ever to do with horses: to follow him for one
whole day and report every soul with whom he
talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at
evening, and Mahbub would listen without a word
or gesture. It was intrigue of some kind, Kim
knew; but its worth lay in saying nothing what-
ever to any one except Mahbub, who gave him
beautiful meals all hot from the cookshop at the
head of the serai, and once as much as eight annas
in money.
" He is here," said Kim, hitting a bad-tempered
camel on the nose. " Ohe, Mahbub Ali ! " He
halted at a dark arch and slipped behind the
bewildered lama.
31
KIM
The horse-trader, his deep, embroidered Bok-
hariot belt unloosed, was lying on a pair of silk
carpet saddle-bags, pulling lazily at an immense
silver hookah. He turned his head very slightly
at the cry ; and seeing only the tall silent figure,
chuckled in his deep chest.
'' Allah ! A lama ! A Red Lama ! It is far
from Lahore to the Passes. What dost thou do
here ? "
The lama held out the begging-bowl mechani-
cally.
" God's curse on all unbelievers ! " said Mahbub.
" I do not give to a lousy Tibetan ; but ask my
Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They may
value your blessings. Oh, horse-boys, here is a
countryman of yours. See if he be hungry."
A shaven, crouching Haiti, who had come down
with the horses, and who was nominally some sort
of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest, and
in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at
the horse-boys' fire.
" Go ! " said Kim, pushing him lightly, and the
lama strode away, leaving Kim at the edge of the
cloister.
" Go I " said Mahbub Ali, returning to his hookah.
" Little Hindu, run away. God's curse on all un-
believers ! Beg from those of my tail who are of
thy faith."
" Maharaj," whined Kim, using the Hindu form
32
KIM
of address, and thoroughly enjoying the situation,
" my father is dead — my mother is dead — my
stomach is empty."
" Beg from my men among the horses, I say.
There must be some Hindus in my tail."
" Oh, Mahbub Ali, but am / a Hindu ^ " said
Kim in English.
The trader gave no sign of astonishment, but
looked under shaggy eyebrows.
"Little Friend of all the World," said he,
" what is this ^ "
"Nothing. I am now that holy man's disciple;
and we go a pilgrimage together — to Benares, he
says. He is quite mad, and I am tired of Lahore
city. I wish new air and water."
" But for whom dost thou work ? Why come
to me ? " The voice was harsh with suspicion.
" To whom else should I come ? I have no
money. It is not good to go about without
money. Thou wilt sell many horses to the offi-
cers. They are very fine horses, these new ones :
I have seen them. Give me a rupee, Mahbub
Ali, and when I come to my wealth I will give
thee a bond and pay."
" Um," said Mahbub Ali, thinking swiftly.
" Thou hast never before lied to me. Call that
lama — stand back in the dark."
" Oh, our tales will agree," said Kim, laughing.
" We go to Benares," said the lama, as soon as
33
KIM
he understood the drift of Mahbub Ali's ques-
tions. " The boy and I. I go to seek for a cer-
tain River."
" Maybe — but the boy *? "
" He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to
guide me to that River. Sitting under a gun was
I when he came suddenly. Such things have be-
fallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed.
But I remember now, he said he was of this world
— a Hindu."
"And his name?"
" That I did not ask. Is he not my disciple *? "
"His country — his race — his village? Mus-
salman — Sikh — Hindu — Jain — low caste or
high ? "
" Why should I ask ? There is neither high
nor low in the Middle Way. If he is my chela —
does — will — can any one take him from me?
for, look you, without him I shall not find my
River." He wagged his head solemnly.
" None shall take him from thee. Go, sit
among my Baltis," said Mahbub Ali, and the
lama drifted off, soothed by the promise.
" Is he not quite mad ? " said Kim, coming for-
ward to the light again. "Why should I lie to
thee, Hajji ? "
Mahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then
he began, almost whispering : " Umballa is on the
road to Benares — if indeed ye two go there."
34
MAHBUB ALI
KIM
he understood the drift of Mahbub Ali's ques-
tions. " The boy and I. I go to seek for a cer-
tain River."
" Maybe — but the boy ? "
" He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to
guide me to that River. Sitting under a gun was
I when he came suddenly. Such things have be-
fallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed.
But I remember now, he said he was of this world
— a Hindu."
"And his name?"
" That I did not ask. Is he not my disciple ? "
" His country — his race — his village ? Mus-
salman — Sikh — Hindu — Jain — low caste or
high ? "
" Why should I ask ? There is neither high
nor low in the Middle Way. If he is my chela —
does — will — can any one take him from me ?
for, look you, without him I shall not find my
River." He wagged his head solemnly.
" None shall take him from thee. Go, sit
among my Baltis," said Mahbub Ali, and the
lama drifted off, soothed by the promise.
" Is he not quite mad ? " said Kim, coming for-
ward to the light again. "Why should I lie to
thee, Hajji ? "
Mahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then
he began, almost whispering : " Umballa is on the
road to Benares — iftiji/^eg<^9nB/;iVP go there."
34
M^. -<w
KIM
" Tck I Tck ! I tell thee he does not know how
to lie — as we two know."
"And if thou wilt carry a message for me as
far as Umballa, I will give thee money. It con-
cerns a horse — a white stallion which I have sold
to an officer upon the last time I returned from
the Passes. But then — stand nearer and hold up
hands as begging — the pedigree of the white
stallion was not fully established, and that officer,
who is now at Umballa, bade me make it clear."
(Mahbub here described the horse and the appear-
ance of the officer.) " So the message to that
officer will be : ' The pedigree of the white stallion
is fully established.' By this will he know that
thou comest from me. He will then say : ' What
proof hast thou ? ' and thou wilt answer : ' Mahbub
Ali has given me the proof' "
" And all for the sake of a white stallion," said
Kim, with a giggle, his eyes aflame.
"That pedigree I will give thee now — in my
own fashion — and some hard words as well." A
shadow passed behind Kim, and a feeding camel.
Mahbub Ali raised his voice.
" Allah I Art thou the only beggar in the city *?
Thy mother is dead. Thy father is dead. So is
it with all of them. Well, well — " he turned
as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap
of soft, greasy Mussalman bread to the boy. " Go
and lie down among my horse-boys for to-night —
35
KIM
thou and the lama. To-morrow I may give thee
service."
Kim slunk away, his teeth in the bread, and, as
he expected, he found a small wad of folded tissue-
paper wrapped in oil-skin, with three silver rupees
— enormous largesse. He smiled and thrust money
and paper into his leather amulet-case. The lama,
sumptuously fed by Mahbub's Baltis, was already
asleep in a corner of one of the stalls. Kim lay
down beside him and laughed. He knew he had
rendered a service to Mahbub Ali, and not for one
little minute did he believe the tale of the stallion's
pedigree.
But Kim did not suspect that Mahbub Ali,
known as one of the best horse-dealers in the Pun-
jab, a wealthy and enterprising trader, whose cara-
vans penetrated far and far into the Back of Be-
yond, was registered in one of the locked books of
the Indian Survey Department as C.25.1B. Twice
or thrice yearly C.25 would send in a little story,
baldly told but most interesting, and generally — it
was checked by the statements of R. 1 7 and M.4 —
quite true. It concerned all manner of out-of-the-
way mountain principalities, explorers of nationali-
ties other than English, and the gun-trade — was,
in brief, a small portion of that vast mass of " in-
formation received " on which the Indian Govern-
ment acts. But, recently, five confederated Kings,
who had no business to confederate, had been in-
36
KIM
formed by a kindly Northern Power that there was
a leakage of news from their territories into British
India. So those Kings' prime ministers were seri-
ously annoyed and took steps, after the Oriental
fashion. They suspected, among many others, the
bullying, red-bearded horse-dealer whose caravans
ploughed through their fastnesses belly deep in
snow. At least, his caravan that season had been
ambushed and shot at twice on the way down,
when Mahbub's men accounted for three strange
ruffians who might, or might not, have been hired
for the job. Therefore Mahbub had avoided
halting at the insalubrious city of Peshawur, and
had come through without stop to Lahore, where,
knowing his country-people, he anticipated curious
developments.
And there was that on Mahbub Ali which he
did not wish to keep an hour longer than was
necessary — a wad of closely folded tissue-paper,
wrapped in oil-skin — an impersonal, unaddressed
statement, with five microscopic pin-holes in one
corner, that most scandalously betrayed the five
confederated Kings, the sympathetic Northern
Power, a Hindu banker in Peshawur, a firm of
gun-makers in Belgium, and an important, semi-
independent Mohammedan ruler to the south.
This last was R.iy's work, which Mahbub had
picked up beyond the Dora Pass and was carrying
in for R.17, who, owing to circumstances over
37
KIM
which he had no control, could not leave his post
of observation. Dynamite was milky and innocu-
ous beside that report of C.25 ; and even an Ori-
ental, with an Oriental's views of the value of
time, could see that the sooner it was in the proper
hands the better. Mahbub had no particular desire
to die by violence, because two or three family
blood-feuds across the border hung unfinished on
his hands, and when these scores were cleared he
intended to settle down as a more or less virtuous
citizen. He had never passed the serai gate since
his arrival two days ago, but had been ostentatious
in sending telegrams to Bombay, where he banked
some of his money; to Delhi, where a sub-partner
of his own clan was selling horses to the agent of
a Rajputana state ; and to Umballa, where an Eng-
lishman was excitedly demanding the pedigree
of a white stallion. The public letter-writer, who
knew English, composed excellent telegrams, such
as : — " Crcighton, Laurel Bank, \J7nballa. — Horse is
Arabian as already advised. Sorrowful delayed- pedi-
gree "which am translating^ And later to the same
address : " Much sorrowful delay. Will forward
pedigree." To his sub-partner at Delhi he wired :
'"''Lutuf Ullah. — Have wired two thousand rupees your
credit Luchman Narain's bank." This was entirely
in the way of trade, but every one of those tele-
grams was discussed and re-discussed, by parties
who conceived themselves to be interested, before
38
KIM
they went over to the railway station in charge of
a foolish Balti, who allowed all sorts of people to
read them on the road.
When, in Mahbub's own picturesque language,
he had muddied the wells of inquiry with the
stick of precaution, Kim had dropped on him,
sent from heaven ; and, being as prompt as he was
unscrupulous, Mahbub Ali, used to taking all
sorts of gusty chances, pressed him into service on
the spot.
A wandering lama with a low-caste boy-servant
might attract a moment's interest as they wandered
about India, the land of pilgrims; but no one
would suspect them or, what was more to the
point, rob.
He called for a new light-ball to his hookah,
and considered the case. If the worst came to the
worst, and the boy came to harm, the paper would
incriminate nobody. And he would go up to Um-
balla leisurely and — at a certain risk of exciting
fresh suspicion — repeat his tale by word of mouth
to the people concerned.
But R.iy's report was the kernel of the whole
affair, and it would be distinctly inconvenient if
that failed to come to hand. However, God was
great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he
could for the time being. Kim was the one soul
in the world who had never told him a lie. That
would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if
39
KIM
Mahbub had not known that to others, for his own
ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could lie like an
Oriental.
Then Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the
Gate of the Harpies who paint their eyes and trap
the stranger, and was at some pains to call on the
one girl who, he had reason to believe, was a par-
ticular friend of a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit
who had waylaid his simple Balti in the matter
of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing
to do ; because they fell to drinking perfumed
brandy against the Law of the Prophet, and Mah-
bub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of his
mouth were loosened, and he pursued the Flower
of Delight with the feet of intoxication till he fell
fiat among the cushions, where the Flower of De-
light, aided by a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit,
searched him from head to foot most thoroughly.
About the same hour Kim heard soft feet in
Mahbub's deserted stall. The horse-trader, curi-
ously enough, had left his door unlocked, and his
men were busy celebrating their return to India
with a whole sheep of Mahbub's bounty. A sleek
young gentleman from Delhi, armed with a bunch
of keys which the Flower had unshackled from
the senseless one's belt, went through every single
box, bundle, mat, and saddle-bag in Mahbub's
possession even more systematically than the
Flower and the pundit were searching the owner.
40
KIM
"And I think," said the Flower scornfully an
hour later, one rounded elbow on the snoring car-
case, " that he is no more than a pig of an Afghan
horse-dealer, with no thought except women and
horses. Moreover, he may have sent it away by
now — if ever there were such a thing."
" Nay — in a matter touching Five Kings it
would be next his black heart," said the pundit.
" Was there nothing ? "
The Delhi man laughed and resettled his tur-
ban as he entered. " I searched between the
soles of his slippers as the Flower searched his
clothes. This is not the man but another. I
leave little unseen."
" They did not say he was the very man," said
the pundit thoughtfully. "They said, 'Look if
he be the man, since our councils are troubled.' "
" That North country is full of horse-dealers as
an old coat of lice. There is Sikandar Khan, Nur
Ali Beg, and Farrukh Shah — all heads of Kafilas
— who deal there," said the Flower.
" They have not yet come in," said the pundit.
" Thou must ensnare them later."
" Phew ! " said the Flower with deep disgust,
rolling Mahbub's head from her lap. " I earn my
money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg a swash-
buckler, and old Sikandar Khan — yaie I Go !
I sleep now. This swine will not stir till dawn."
When Mahbub woke, the Flower talked to him
41
KIM
severely on the sin of drunkenness. Asiatics do
not wink when they have out-manoeuvred an
enemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat,
tightened his belt, and staggered forth under the
early morning stars, he came very near to it.
" What a colt's trick," said he to himself " As
if every girl in Peshawur did not use it ! But
'twas prettily done. Now God He knows how
many more there be upon the road who have
orders to test me — perhaps with the knife. So
it stands that the boy must go to Umballa — and
by rail — for the writing is something urgent. I
abide here, following the Flower and drinking
wine as an Afghan coper should."
He halted at the stall next but one to his own.
His men lay there heavy with sleep. There was
no sign of Kim or the lama.
" Up 1 " He stirred a sleeper. " Whither went
those who lay here last even — the lama and the
boy *? Is aught missing ? "
" Nay," grunted the man ; " the old madman rose
at second cockcrow, saying he would go to Benares,
and the young one led him away."
" The curse of Allah on all unbelievers," said
Mahbub heartily, and climbed into his own stall,
growling in his beard.
But it was Kim who had wakened the lama —
Kim with one eye laid against a knot-hole in the
planking, who had seen the Delhi man's search
42
KIM
through the boxes. This was no common thief
that turned over letters, bills, and saddles — no
mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways into
the soles of Mahbub's slippers, or picked the seams
of the saddle-bags so deftly. At first Kim had
been minded to give the alarm — the long-drawn
cho-or — choor 1 (thief I thief!) that sets the serai
ablaze of nights; but he looked more carefully, and,
hand on amulet, drew his own conclusions.
" It must be the pedigree of that made-up horse-
lie," said he, " the thing that I carry to Umballa.
Better that we go now. Those who search bags
with knives may presently search bellies with
knives. Surely there is a woman behind this.
Hai ! Hai I " in a whisper to the light-sleeping
old man. " Come. It is time — time to go to
Benares."
The lama rose obediently, and they passed out
of the serai like shadows.
43
II
For whoso will, from Pride released,
Contemning neither man nor beast.
May hear the Soul of all the East
About him at Kamakura,
They entered the fort-like railway station, black
in the end of night; the electrics sizzling over the
goods-yard where they handle the heavy Northern
grain traffic.
" This is the work of devils I " said the lama,
recoiling from the hollow echoing darkness, the
glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms,
and the maze of girders above. He stood in a
gigantic stone hall paved, it seemed, with the
sheeted dead — third-class passengers who had taken
their tickets overnight and were sleeping in the
waiting-rooms. All hours of the twenty-four are
alike to Orientals, and their passenger traffic is
regulated accordingly.
" This is where the fire-carriages come. One
stands behind that hole" — Kim pointed to the
ticket-office — "who will give thee a paper to take
thee to Umballa."
44
KIM
" But we go to Benares," he replied petulantly.
"All one. Benares then. Quick: she comes!"
" Take thou the purse."
The lama, not so well used to trains as he had
pretended, started as the 3.25 a.m. south bound
roared in. The sleepers sprung to life, and the
station filled with clamour and shoutings, cries of
water and sweetmeat vendors, shouts of native
policemen, and shrill yells of women gathering up
their baskets, their families, and their husbands.
"It is the train — only the te-rain. It will not
come here. Wait ! " Amazed at the lama's im-
mense simplicity (he had handed him a small
bag full of rupees), Kim asked and paid for a
ticket to Umballa. A sleepy clerk grunted and
flung out a ticket to the next station, just six miles
distant.
" Nay," said Kim, scanning it with a grin. " This
may serve for farmers, but I live in the city ot
Lahore. It was cleverly done, babu. Now give
the ticket to Umballa."
The babu scowled and dealt the proper ticket.
"Now another to Amritzar," said Kim, who
had no notion of spending Mahbub Ali's money
on anything so crude as a paid ride to Umballa.
"The price is so much. The small money in
return is just so much. I know the ways of the
te-rain. . . . Never did yogi need chela as thou
dost," he went on merrily to the bewildered lama.
45
KIM
" They would have flung thee out at Mian Mir but
for me. This way ! Come." He returned the
money, keeping only one anna in each rupee of
the price of the Umballa ticket as his commission
— the immemorial commission of Asia.
The lama jibbed at the open door of a crowded
third-class carriage. " Were it not better to walkV"
said he weakly.
A burly Sikh artisan thrust forth his bearded
head. " Is he afraid ? Do not be afraid. I
remember the time when I was afraid of the train.
Enter 1 This thing is the work of the Govern-
ment."
" I do not fear," said the lama. " Have ye
room within for two ^ "
" There is no room even for a mouse," shrilled
the wife of a well-to-do cultivator — a Hindu Jat
from the rich Jullunder district. Our night trains
are not as well looked after as the day ones, where
the sexes are very strictly kept to separate car-
riages.
" Oh, mother of my son, we can make space,"
said the blue-turbaned husband. " Pick up the
child. It is a holy man, see'st thou ? "
" And my lap full of seventy times seven bun-
dles I Why not bid him sit on my knee, Shame-
less ? But men are ever thus ! " She looked
round for approval. An Amritzar courtesan near
the window sniffed behind her head-drapery.
46
KIM
" Enter ! Enter ! " cried a fat Hindu money-
lender, his folded account-book in a cloth under
his arm. With an oily smirk : " It is well to be
kind to the poor."
"Ay, at seven per cent a month with a mort-
gage on the unborn calf," said a young Dogra sol-
dier going south on leave ; and they all laughed.
" Will it travel to Benares *? " said the lama.
" Assuredly. Else why should we come ? En-
ter, or we are left," cried Kim.
" See I " shrilled the Amritzar girl. " He has
never entered a train. Oh, see I "
" Nay, help," said the cultivator, putting out a
large brown hand and hauling him in. " Thus is
it done, father."
" But — but — I sit on the floor. It is against
the Rule to sit on a bench," said the lama. " More-
over, it cramps me."
" I say," began the money-lender, pursing his
lips, " that there is not one rule of right living
which these te-rams do not cause us to break. We
sit, for example, side by side with all castes and
peoples."
" Yea, and with most outrageously shameless
ones," said the wife, scowling at the Amritzar girl
making eyes at the young sepoy.
" I said we might have gone by cart along the
road," said the husband, " and thus have saved
some money."
47
KIM
"Yes — and spent twice over what we saved on
food by the way. That was talked out ten thou-
sand times."
" Ay, by ten thousand tongues," grunted he.
" The Gods help us poor women if we may not
speak. Oho I He is of that sort which may not
look at or reply to a woman." For the lama, con-
strained by his Rule, took not the faintest notice
of her. "And his disciple is like him ? "
" Nay, mother," said Kim most promptly. "Not
when the woman is well-looking and above all
charitable to the hungry."
"A beggar's answer," said the Sikh, laughing.
" Thou hast brought it on thyself, sister I " Kim's
hands were crooked in supplication.
" And whither goest thou *? " said the woman,
handing him the half of a cake from a greasy
package.
" Even to Benares."
"Jugglers belike?" the young soldier suggested.
" Have ye any tricks to pass the time *? Why does
not that yellow man answer ? "
" Because," said Kim stoutly, " he is holy, and
thinks upon matters hidden from thee."
" That may be well. We of the Loodhiana
Sikhs," he rolled it out sonorously, " do not trouble
our heads with doctrine. We fight."
" My sister's brother's son is riaik (corporal) in
that regiment," said the Sikh craftsman quietly.
48
KIM
** There are also some Dogra companies there."
The soldier glared, for a Dogra is of other caste
than a Sikh, and the banker tittered.
" They are all one to me," said the Amritzar
girl.
" That we believe," snorted the cultivator's wife
malignantly.
" Nay, but all who serve the Sirkar with weapons
in their hands are, as it were, one brotherhood.
There is one brotherhood of the caste, but beyond
that again" — she looked round timidly — "the
bond of the Fulton — the Regiment — eh ? "
" My brother is in a Jat regiment," said the
cultivator. " Dogras be good men."
" Thy Sikhs at least were of that opinion," said
the soldier, with a scowl at the placid old man in
the corner. " '^hy Sikhs thought so when our two
companies came to help them at the Pirzai Kotal
in the face of eight Afreedee standards on the ridge
not three months gone."
He told the story of a Border action in which
the Dogra companies of the Loodhiana Sikhs had
acquitted themselves well. The Amritzar girl
smiled; for she knew the tale was to win her ap-
proval.
" Alas I " said the cultivator's wife at the end.
" So their villages were burnt and their little chil-
dren made homeless ? "
" They had marked our dead. They paid a
49
KIM
great payment after we of the Sikhs had schooled
them. So it was. Is this Amritzar *? "
" Ay, and here they cut our tickets," said the
banker, fumbhng at his belt.
The lamps were paling in the dawn when the
half-caste guard came round. Ticket-collecting is
a slow business in the East, where people secrete
their tickets in all sorts of curious places. Kim
produced his and was told to get out.
"But I go to Umballa," he protested. "I go
with this holy man."
" Thou canst go to Jehannum for aught I care.
This ticket is only to Amritzar. Out I "
Kim burst into a flood of tears, protesting that
the lama was his father and his mother, that he
was the prop of the lama's declining years, and
that the lama would die without his care. All the
carriage bade the guard be merciful, — the banker
was specially eloquent here, — but the guard hauled
Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked, he
could not overtake the situation, and Kim lifted
up his voice and wept outside the carriage window.
" I am very poor. My father is dead — my
mother is dead. Oh, charitable ones, if I am left
here, who shall tend that old man ? "
" What — what is this ? " the lama repeated.
" He must go to Benares. He must come with
me. He is my chela. If there is money to be
paid — "
50
KIM
" Oh, be silent," whispered Kim; "are we Rajahs
to throw away good silver when the world is so
charitable ? "
The Amritzar girl stepped out with her bundles,
and it was on her that Kim kept his watchful
eye. Ladies of that persuasion, he knew, were
generous.
"A ticket — a little tikh/t to Umballa — O
Breaker of Hearts I " She laughed. " Hast thou
no charity *? "
" Does the holy man come from the North *? "
" From far and far in the North he comes," cried
Kim. " From among the Hills."
" There is snow among the pine-trees in the
North — in the Hills there is snow. My mother
was from Kulu. Get thee a ticket. Ask him for
a blessing."
" Ten thousand blessings," shrilled Kim. " O
Holy One, a woman has given us in charity so
that I can come with thee — a woman with a golden
heart. I run for the tikkut"
The girl looked up at the lama, who had
mechanically followed Kim to the platform. He
bowed his head that he might not see her, and
muttered in Tibetan as she passed on with the crowd.
" Light come — light go," said the cultivator's
wife viciously.
" She has acquired merit," returned the lama.
" Beyond doubt it was a nun."
51
KIM
" There be ten thousand such nuns in Amritzar
alone. Return, old man, or the train may depart
without thee," cried the banker.
" Not only was it sufficient for the ticket, but
for a little food also," said Kim, leaping to his
place. " Now eat. Holy One. Look. Day
comes ! "
Golden, rose, saffron, and pink, the morning
mists smoked away across the flat green levels.
All the rich Punjab lay out in the splendour of
the keen sun. The lama flinched a little as the
telegraph-posts swung by.
"Great is the speed of the train," said the
banker, with a patronising grin. " We have gone
farther since Lahore than thou couldst walk in
two days : at even, we shall enter Umballa."
"And that is still far from Benares," said the
lama wearily, mumbling over the cakes that Kim
offered. They all unloosed their bundles and
made their morning meal. Then the banker, the
cultivator, and the soldier prepared their pipes and
wrapped the compartment in choking, acrid smoke,
spitting and coughing and enjoying themselves.
The Sikh and the cultivator's wife chewed pan;
the lama took snuff and told his beads, while Kim,
cross-legged, smiled over the comfort of a full
stomach.
"What rivers have ye by Benares?" said the
lama of a sudden to the carriage at large.
52
KIM
" We have Gunga," returned the banker, when
the little titter had subsided.
" What others ? "
" What other than Gunga ? "
"Nay, but in my mind was the thought of a
certain River of healing."
" That is Gunga. Who bathes in her is made
clean and goes to the Gods. Thrice have I
made pilgrimage to Gunga." He looked round
proudly.
" There was need," said the young sepoy drily,
and the travellers' laugh turned against the
banker.
" Clean — to return again to the Gods," the
lama muttered. " And to go forth on the round of
lives anew — still tied to the Wheel." He shook
his head testily. " But maybe there is a mistake.
Who, then, made Gunga in the beginning ? "
" The Gods. Of what known faith art thou *? "
the banker said, appalled.
" I follow the Law — the Most Excellent Law.
So it was the Gods that made Gunga. What like
of Gods were they *? "
The carriage looked at him in amazement. It
was inconceivable that any one should be ignorant
of Gunga.
" What — what is thy God ? " said the money-
lender at last.
" Hear I " said the lama, shifting the rosary to his
53
KIM
hand. " Hear : for I speak of Him now I O people
of Hind, listen ! "
He began in Urdu the tale of the Lord Buddha,
but, borne by his own thoughts, slid into Tibetan
and long-droned texts from a Chinese book of the
Buddha's life. The gentle, tolerant folk looked
on reverently. All India is full of holy men
stammering gospels in strange tongues ; shaken
and consumed in the fires of their own zeal ;
dreamers, babblers, and visionaries : as it has
been from the beginning and will continue to the
end.
" Um I " said the soldier of the Loodhiana Sikhs.
" There was a Mohammedan regiment lay next to
us at the Pirzai Kotal, and a priest of theirs, — he
was, as I remember, a naik^ — when the fit was on
him, spake prophecies. But the mad all are in
God's keeping. His officers overlooked much in
that man."
The lama fell back on Urdu, remembering
that he was in a strange land. " Hear the tale of
the Arrow which our Lord loosed from the bow,"
he said.
This was much more to their taste, and they
listened curiously while he told it. " Now, O
people of Hind, I go to seek that River. Know
ye aught that may guide me, for we be all men and
women in evil case."
" There is Gunga — and Gunga alone — who
54
KIM
washes away sin," ran the murmur round the
carriage.
" Though past question we have good Gods Jul-
lunder-way," said the cultivator's wife, looking out
of window. " See how they have blessed the crops."
" To search every river in the Punjab is no
small matter," said her husband. " For me, a
stream that leaves good silt on my land suffices, and
I thank Bhumia, the God of the Homestead." He
shrugged one knotted, bronzed shoulder.
" Think you our Lord came so far north ? " said
the lama, turning to Kim.
" It may be," Kim replied soothingly, as he spat
red paf2-]mce on the floor.
" The last of the Great Ones," said the Sikh with
authority, "was Sikander Julkarn (Alexander the
Great). He paved the streets of Jullunder and
built a great tank near Umballa. That pavement
holds to this day; and the tank is there also. I
never heard of thy God."
" Let thy hair grow long and talk Punjabi," said
the young soldier jestingly to Kim, quoting
a Northern proverb. " That is all that makes a
Sikh." But he did not say this very loud.
The lama sighed and shrunk into himself, a
dingy, shapeless mass. In the pauses of their talk
they could hear the low droning — ''Om mane
piidmehunil Om mane pudme hum!" — and the thick
click of the wooden rosary beads.
55
KIM
" It irks me," he said at last. " The speed and
the chitter irk me. Moreover, my chcla^ I think
that maybe we have overpassed that River."
" Peace, peace," said Kim. " Was not the River
near Benares *? We are yet far from the place."
" But — if our Lord came north, it may be any
one of these Httle ones that we have run across."
" I do not know."
" But thou wast sent to me — wast thou sent to
me? — for the merit I had acquired over yonder at
Such-zen. From beside the cannon didst thou come
— bearing two faces — and two garbs."
" Peace. One must not speak of these things
here," whispered Kim. " There was but one of
me. Think again and thou wilt remember. A
boy — a Hindu boy — by the great green cannon."
" But was there not also an Englishman with a
white beard — holy among images — who himself
made more sure my assurance of the River of the
Arrow ? "
"He — we — went to the Ajaib-Gher in Lahore
to pray before the Gods there," Kim explained to
the openly listening company. " And the Sahib of
the Wonder House talked to him — yes, this is
truth — as a brother. He is a very holy man, from
far beyond the Hills. Rest thou. In time we come
to Umballa."
" But my River — the River of my healing ? "
" And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting
56
KIM
for that River on foot. So that we miss nothing —
not even a little rivulet in a field-side."
" But thou hast a Search of thine own?" The
lama — very pleased that he remembered so well —
sat bolt upright.
" Ay," said Kim, humouring him. The boy
was entirely happy to be out chewing pern and
seeing new people in the great good-tempered
world.
" It was a bull — a Red Bull that shall come and
help thee — and carry thee — whither? I have
forgotten. A Red Bull on a green field, was it
not ? "
"Nay, it will carry me nowhere," said Kim. "It
is but a tale I told thee."
" What is this ? " The cultivator's wife leaned
forward, her bracelets clinking on her arm. " Do
ye both dream dreams ? A Red Bull on a green
field, that shall carry thee to the Heavens — or
what ? Was it a vision ? Did one make a
prophecy? We have a Red Bull in our village
behind JuUunder city, and he grazes by choice in
the very greenest of our fields ! "
" Give a woman an old wife's tale and a weaver-
bird a leaf and a thread, they will weave wonder-
ful things," said the Sikh. " All holy men dream
dreams, and by following holy men their disciples
attain that power."
" A Red Bull on a green field, was it ? " the
57
KIM
lama repeated. " In a former life it may be thou
hast acquired merit, and the Bull will come to re-
ward thee."
" Nay — nay — it was but a tale one told to me
— for a jest belike. But I will seek the Bull
about Umballa, and thou canst look for thy River
and rest from the clatter of the train."
" It may be that the Bull knows — that he is
sent to guide us both," said the lama, hopefully as
a child. Then to the company, indicating Kim :
"This one was sent to me but yesterday. He is
not, I think, of this world."
" Beggars a plenty have I met, and holy men to
boot, but never such a yogi nor such a disciple,"
said the woman.
Her husband touched his forehead lightly with
one finger and smiled. But the next time the
lama would eat they took care to give him their best.
And at last — tired, sleepy, and dusty — they
reached Umballa City Station.
" We abide here upon a lawsuit," said the
cultivator's wife to Kim. "We lodge with my
man's cousin's younger brother. There is room
also in the courtyard for thy yogi and for thee.
Will — will he give me a blessing? "
" O holy man I A woman with a heart of gold
gives us lodging for the night. It is a kindly land,
this land of the South. See how we have been
helped since the dawn I "
58
KIM
The lama bowed his head in benediction.
" To fill my cousin's younger brother's house
with wastrels — " the husband began, as he shoul-
dered his heavy bamboo staff.
" Thy cousin's younger brother owes my father's
cousin something yet on his daughter's marriage-
feast," said the woman crisply. " Let him put
their food to that account. The yogi will beg, I
doubt not."
" Ay, I beg for him," said Kim, anxious only to
get the lama under shelter for the night, that he
might seek. Mahbub Ali's Englishman and deliver
himself of the white stallion's pedigree.
" Now," said he, when the lama had come to an
anchor in the inner courtyard of a decent Hindu
house behind the cantonments, " I go away for
awhile — to — to buy us victual in the bazar. Do
not stray abroad till I return."
" Thou wilt return'? Thou wilt surely return? "
The old man caught at his wrist. "And thou
wilt return in this very same shape ? Is it too late
to look to-night for the River ? "
"Too late and too dark. Be comforted. Think
how far thou art on the road — an hundred hs
from Lahore already."
" Yea — and farther from my monastery. Alas !
It is a great and terrible world."
Kim stole out and away, as unremarkable a fig-
ure as ever carried his own and a few score thou-
59
KIM
sand other folks' fate slung round his neck. Mah-
bub All's directions left him little doubt of the
house in which his Englishman lived ; and a
groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club,
made him quite sure. It remained only to identify
his man, and Kim slipped through the garden
hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass close to
the verandah. The house blazed with lights, and
servants moved about tables dressed with flowers,
glass, and silver. Presently forth came an Eng-
lishman, dressed in black and white, humming a
tune. It was too dark to see his face, so Kim,
beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.
" Protector of the Poor I "
The man backed towards the voice.
" Mahbub AH says — "
" Hah ! What says Mahbub Ah ? " He made
no attempt to look for the speaker, and that
showed Kim that he knew.
" The pedigree of the white stallion is fully es-
tablished."
" What proof is there ? " The Englishman
switched at the rose-hedge in the side of the
drive.
" Mahbub Ali has given me this proof" Kim
flipped the wad of folded paper into the air, and it
fell on the path beside the man, who put his foot
on it as a gardener came round the corner. When
the servant passed he picked it up, dropped a ru-
60
KIM
pee, — Kim could hear the clink, — and strode into
the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took
up the money ; but, for all his training, he was Irish
enough by birth to reckon silver the least part of
any game. What he desired was the visible effect
of action ; so, instead of slinking away, he lay
close in the grass and wormed nearer to the
house.
He saw — Indian bungalows are open through
and through — the Englishman return to a small
dressing-room, in a corner of the verandah, that
was half-office, littered with papers and despatch-
boxes, and sit down to study Mahbub All's mes-
sage. His face, by the full ray of the kerosene
lamp, changed and darkened, and Kim, used as
every beggar must be to watching countenances,
took good note.
" Will ! Will, dear ! " called a woman's voice.
" You ought to be in the drawing-room. They'll
be here in a minute."
The man still read intently.
" Will ! " said the voice, five minutes later.
" He's come. I can hear the troopers in the
drive."
The man dashed out bareheaded as a big landau
with four native troopers behind it halted at the
verandah, and a tall, black-haired man, erect as an
arrow, swung out, preceded by a young officer who
laughed pleasantly.
61
KIM
Flat on his belly lay Kim, almost touching the
high wheels. His man and the black, stranger ex-
changed two sentences.
"Certainly, sir," said the young officer promptly.
" Everything waits while a horse is concerned."
" We shan't be more than twenty minutes,"
said Kim's man. "You can do the honours —
keep 'em amused, and all that."
" Tell one of the troopers to wait," said the tall
man, and they both passed into the dressing-room
together as the landau rolled away. Kim saw their
heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard
the voices — one low and deferential, the other
sharp and decisive.
" It isn't a question of weeks. It is a question
of days — hours almost," said the elder. " I'd been
expecting it for some time, but this " — he tapped
Mahbub Ali's paper — " clenches it. Grogan's
dining here to-night, isn't he ? "
" Yes, sir, and Macklin too."
" Very good. I'll speak to them myself. The
matter will be referred to the Council, of course,
but this is a case where one is justified in assuming
that we take action at once. Warn the Pindi and
Peshawur brigades. It will disorganise all the
summer reliefs, but we can't help that. This comes
of not smashing them thoroughly the first time.
Eight thousand should be enough."
" What about artillery, sir ? "
62
KIM
" I must consult Macklin."
" Then it means war *? "
"No. Punishment. When a man is bound by
the action of his predecessor — "
" But C.25 may have lied."
" He bears out the other's information. Prac-
tically, they showed their hand six months back.
But Devenish would have it there was a chance of
peace. Of course they used it to make themselves
stronger. Send off those telegrams at once, — the
new code, not the old, — mine and Wharton's. I
don't think we need keep the ladies waiting any
longer. We can settle the rest over the cigars. I
thought it was coming. It's punishment — not
war."
As the trooper cantered off, Kim crawled round
to the back of the house, where, going on his La-
hore experiences, he judged there would be food
— and information. The kitchen was crowded
with excited scullions, one of whom kicked him.
" Aie," said Kim, feigning tears. " I came only
to wash dishes in return for a bellyful."
"All Umballa is on the same errand. Get hence.
They go in now with the soup. Think you that
we who serve Creighton Sahib need strange scullions
to help us through a big dinner *? "
" It is a very big dinner," said Kim, looking at
the plates.
" Small wonder. The guest ot honour is none
63
KIM
other than the Jang-i-Lat Sahib (the Commander-
in-Chief)."
" Ho I " said Kim, with the correct guttural note
of wonder. He had learned what he wanted, and
when the scullion turned he was gone.
"And all that trouble," said he to himself,
thinking as usual in Hindustanee, "for a horse's
pedigree I Mahbub Ali should have come to me
to learn a little lying. Every time before that I
have borne a message it concerned a woman. Now
it is men. Better. The tall man said that they
will loose a great army to punish some one — some-
where — the news goes to Pindi and Peshawur.
There are also guns. Would I had crept nearer.
It is big news 1 "
He returned to find the cultivator's cousin's
younger brother discussing the family lawsuit in
all its bearings with the cultivator and his wife and
a few friends, while the lama dozed. After the
evening meal some one passed him a water-pipe;
and Kim felt very much of a man as he pulled at
the smooth cocoanut-shell, his legs spread abroad
in the moonlight, his tongue clicking in remarks
from time to time. His hosts were most polite;
for the cultivator's wife had told them of his vision
of the Red Bull, and of his probable descent from
another world. Moreover, the lama was a great
and venerable curiosity. The family priest, an
old, tolerant Sarsut Brahmin, dropped in later and
64
KIM
naturally started a theological argument to impress
the family. By creed, of course, they were all on
their priest's side, but the lama was the guest and
the novelty. His gentle kindliness, and his im-
pressive Chinese quotations, that sounded like
spells, delighted them hugely; and in this sym-
pathetic, simple air, he expanded like the Bodhisat's
own lotus, speaking of his life in the great hills of
Such-zen, before, as he said, " I rose up to seek
enlightenment."
Then it came out that in those worldly days he
had been a master-hand at casting horoscopes and
nativities; and the family priest led him on to
describe his methods; each giving the planets
names that the other could not understand, and
pointing upwards as the big stars sailed across the
dark. The children of the house tugged unrebuked
at his rosary; and he clean forgot the Rule
which forbids looking at women as he talked of
enduring snows, landslips, blocked passes, the
remote cliffs where men find sapphires and tur-
quoise, and that wonderful upland road that leads
at last into Great China itself
" How thinkest thou of this one ? " said the
cultivator aside to the priest.
" A holy man — a holy man indeed. His Gods
are not the Gods, but his feet are upon the Way,"
was the answer. " And his methods of nativities,
though that is beyond thee, are wise and sure."
65
KIM
"Tell me," said Kim lazily, "whether I find
my Red Bull on a green field, as was promised
me."
" What knowledge hast thou of thy birth-hour?"
the priest asked, swelling with importance.
" Between first and second cockcrow of the first
night in May."
" Of what year ? "
" I do not know ; but upon the hour that I
cried first fell the great earthquake in Srinagur
which is in Kashmir." This Kim had from the
woman who took care ot him, and she again from
Kimball O'Hara. The earthquake had been felt
in India, and for long stood a leading date in the
Punjab.
" Ai ! " said a woman excitedly. This seemed
to make Kim's supernatural origin more certain.
" Was not such an one's daughter bom then — "
" And her mother bore her husband four sons in
four years — all likely boys," cried the cultivator's
wife, sitting outside the circle in the shadow.
" None reared in the knowledge," said the
family priest, " forget how the planets stood in their
Houses upon that night." He began to draw in
the dust of the courtyard. " At least thou hast
good claim to a half of the House of the Bull.
How runs thy prophecy ? "
" Upon a day," said Kim, delighted at the
sensation he was creating, " I shall be made great
66
KIM
by means of a Red Bull on a green field, but first
there will enter two men making all things ready,"
" Yes : thus ever at the opening of a vision.
A thick darkness that clears slowly ; anon one
enters with a broom making ready the place.
Then begins the Sight. Two men — thou sayest'?
Ay, ay. The Sun, leaving the House of the Bull,
enters that of the Twins. Hence the two men of
the prophecy. Let us now consider. Fetch me
a twig, little one."
He knitted his brows, scratched, smoothed out,
and scratched again in the dust mysterious signs
— to the wonder of all save the lama, who, with
fine instinct, forbore to interfere.
At the end of half an hour, he tossed the twig
from him with a grunt.
" Hm. Thus say the stars. Within three days
come the two men to make all things ready.
After them follows the Bull; but the sign over
against him is the sign of War and armed men."
" There was indeed a man of the Loodhiana
Sikhs in the carriage from Lahore," said the
cultivator's wife hopefully.
" Tck ! Armed men — many hundreds. What
concern hast thou with war ? " said the priest to
Kim. " Thine is a red and an angry sign of War
to be loosed very soon."
"None — none," said the lama earnestly. "We
seek only peace and our River."
67
KIM
Kim smiled, remembering what he had over-
heard in the dressing-room. Decidedly he was a
favourite ot the stars.
The priest brushed his foot over the rude horo-
scope. " More than this I cannot see. In three
days comes the Bull to thee, boy."
" And my River, my River," pleaded the lama.
" I had hoped his Bull would lead us both to the
River."
"Alas, for that wondrous River, my brother,"
the priest replied. " Such things are not common."
Next morning, though they were pressed to
stay, the lama insisted on departure. They gave
Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly three
annas in copper money for the needs of the road,
and with many blessings watched the two go
southward in the dawn.
"Pity it is that these and such as these could
not be freed from the Wheel of Things," said the
lama.
" Nay, then would only evil people be left on
the earth, and who would give us meat and
shelter ^ " quoth Kim, stepping merrily under his
burden.
" Yonder is a small stream. Let us look," said
the lama, and he led from the white road across
the fields; walking into a very hornets'-nest of
pariah dogs.
68
Ill
Yea, voice of every Soul that clung
To Life that strove from rung to rung
When Devadatta's rule was young.
The warm wind brings Kamakura.
Behind them an angry farmer brandished a bamboo
pole. He was a market-gardener, Arain by caste,
growing vegetables and flowers for Umballa city,
and well Kim knew the breed.
" Such an one," said the lama, disregarding the
dogs, " is impolite to strangers, intemperate of
speech, and uncharitable. Be warned by his de-
meanour, my disciple."
" Ho, shameless beggars ! " shouted the farmer.
" Begone I Get hence I "
" We go," the lama returned, with quiet dignity.
" We go from these unblessed fields."
" Ah," said Kim, sucking in his breath. " If the
next crops fail, thou canst only blame thy own
tongue."
The man shuffled uneasily in his slippers. " The
land is full of beggars," he began, half apologeti-
cally.
69
KIM
"And by what sign didst thou know that we
would beg from thee, O MaH ? " said Kim tartly,
using the name that a market-gardener least likes.
" All we sought was to look at that river beyond
the field there."
" River, forsooth I " the man snorted. " What
city do ye hail from not to know a canal-cut*? It
runs as straight as an arrow, and I pay for the
water as though it were molten silver. There is a
branch of a river beyond. But if ye need water I
can give that — and milk."
" Nay, we will go to the river," said the lama,
striding out.
" Milk and a meal," the man stammered, as he
looked at the strange tall figure. "I — I would
not draw evil upon myself — or my crops; but
beggars are so many in these hard days."
" Take notice," the lama turned to Kim. " He
was led to speak harshly by the Red Mist of anger.
That clearing from his eyes, he becomes courteous
and of an affable heart. May his fields be blessed.
Beware not to judge men too hastily, O farmer."
" I have met holy ones who would have cursed
thee from hearthstone to byre,." said Kim to the
abashed man. " Is he not wise and holy ? I am
his disciple."
He cocked his nose in the air loftily and
stepped across the narrow field-borders with great
dignity.
70
KIM
" There is no pride," said the lama, after a pause,
*' there is no pride among such as follow the Middle
Way."
" But thou hast said he was low caste and dis-
courteous."
" Low caste I did not say, for how can that be
which is not'? Afterwards he amended his dis-
courtesy, and I forgot the offence. Moreover, he
is, as we are, bound upon the Wheel of Things;
but he does not tread the way of deliverance." He
halted at a little runlet among the fields, and con-
sidered the hoof-pitted bank.
" Now, how wilt thou know thy River *? " said
Kim, squatting in the shade of some tall sugar-
cane.
" When I find it, an enlightenment will surely
be given. This, I feel, is not the place. O
littlest among the waters, if only thou couldst tell
me where runs my River I But be thou blessed to
make the fields bear ! "
" Look ! Look I " Kim sprang to his side and
dragged him back. A yellow and brown streak
glided from the purple rustling stems to the bank,
stretched its neck to the water, drank, and lay
still — a big cobra with fixed, lidless eyes.
" I have no stick — I have no stick," said Kim.
" I will get me one and break his back."
" Why "? He is upon the Wheel as we are —
a life ascending or descending — very far from de-
71
KLM
liverance. Great evil must the soul have done
that is cast into this shape."
" I hate all snakes," said Kim. No native train-
ing can quench the white man's horror ot the Ser-
pent.
" Let him live out his life." The coiled thing
hissed and half opened its hood. " May thy re-
lease come soon, brother," the lama continued
placidly. " Hast thou knowledge, by chance, of
my River *? "
" Never have I seen such a man as thou art,"
Kim whispered, overwhelmed. " Do the very
snakes understand thy talk *? "
" Who knows "? " He passed within a foot of
the cobra's poised head. It flattened itself among
the dusty coils.
" Come thou I " he called over his shoulder,
" Not I," said Kim. " I go round."
" Come. He does no hurt."
Kim hesitated for a moment. The lama backed
his order by some droned Chinese quotation which
Kim took for a charm. He obeyed and bounded
across the rivulet, and the snake, indeed, made no
sign.
" Never have I seen such a man." Kim wiped
the sweat from his forehead. " And now, whither
go we ? "
" That is for thee to say. I am old, and a
stranger — far from my own place. But that the
72
KIM
r^/-carriage fills my head with noises of devil-
drums I would go in it to Benares now . . . yet by
so going we may miss the River. Let us find
another river."
Where the hard-worked soil gives three and even
four crops a year — through patches of sugar-cane,
tobacco, long white radishes, and nol-kol, all that
day they strolled on, turning aside to every glimpse
of water; rousing village dogs and sleeping villages
at noonday ; the lama replying to the vollied ques-
tions with an unswerving simplicity. They sought
a River — a River of miraculous healing. Had
any one knowledge of such a stream ? Sometimes
men laughed, but more often heard the story out
to the end and offered them a place in the shade, a
drink of milk, and a meal. The women were al-
ways kind, and the little children, as children are
the world over, alternately shy and venturesome.
Evening found them at rest under the village tree
of a mud-walled, mud-roofed hamlet, talking to
the headman as the cattle came in from the grazing-
grounds and the women prepared the day's last
meal. They had passed beyond the belt of market-
gardens round hungry Umballa, and were among
the mile-wide green of the staple crops.
He was a white-bearded and affable elder, used
to entertaining strangers. He dragged out a string
bedstead for the lama, set warm cooked food be-
fore him, prepared him a pipe, and, the evening
73
KIM
ceremonies being finished in the village temple,
sent for the village priest.
Kim told the older children tales of the size and
beauty of Lahore, of railway travel, and such like
city things, while the men talked, slowly as their
cattle chew the cud.
"I cannot fathom it," said the headman at last
to the priest. "How readest thou this talk?"
The lama, his tale told, was silently telling his
beads.
" He is a Seeker," the priest answered. " The
land is full of such. Remember him who came
only last month — \S\^ faqiiir with the tortoise?"
" Ay, but that man had right and reason, for
Krishna Himself appeared in a vision promising
him Paradise without the burning-pyre if he jour-
neyed to Prayag. This man seeks no god who is
within my knowledge."
" Peace, he is old : he comes from far off, and
he is mad," the smooth-shaven priest replied.
" Hear me." He turned to the lama. " Three kos
(six miles) to the westward runs the great road to
Calcutta."
" But I would go to Benares — to Benares."
" And to Benares also. It crosses all streams on
this side of Hind. Now my word to thee. Holy
One, is rest here till to-morrow. Then take the
road " (it was the Grand Trunk Road he meant)
"and test each stream that it overpasses; for, as I
74
KIM
understand, the virtue of thy River lies neither in
one pool nor place, but throughout its length.
Then, if thy gods will, be assured that thou wilt
come upon thy freedom."
" That is well said." The lama was much im-
pressed by the plan. " We will begin to-morrow,
and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a
near road." A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant
closed the sentence. Even the priest was im-
pressed, and the headman feared an evil spell;
but none could look at the lama's simple, eager
face and doubt him long.
" Seest thou my chela f " he said, diving into his
snufF-gourd with an important sniff. It was his
duty to repay courtesy with courtesy.
"I see — and hear." The headman rolled his
eye where Kim was chatting to a girl in blue as
she laid crackling thorns on a fire.
" He also has a Search of his own. No river,
but a Bull. Yea, a Red Bull on a green field will
some day raise him to honour. He is, I think,
not altogether of this world. He was sent of a
sudden to aid me in this search, and his name is
Friend of all the World."
The priest smiled. " Ho there. Friend of all
the World," he cried across the sharp-smelling
smoke, " what art thou ? "
" This Holy One's disciple," said Kim.
" He says thou art a biJt (a spirit)."
75
KIM
"Can bilts eat?" said Kim, with a twinkle.
" For I am hungry,"
" It is no jest," cried the lama. " A certain
astrologer of that city whose name I have for-
gotten — "
" That is no more than the city of Umballa,
where we slept last night," Kim whispered to the
priest,
"Ay, Umballa was it? He cast a horoscope
and declared that my chela should find his desire
within two days. But what said he of the mean-
ing of the stars, Friend of all the World ? "
Kim cleared his throat and looked around at
the village graybeards.
" The meaning of my Star is War," he replied
pompously.
Somebody laughed at the little tattered figure
strutting on the brickwork plinth under the great
tree. Where a native would have lain down,
Kim's white blood set him upon his feet.
" Ay, War," he answered,
" That is a sure prophecy," rumbled a deep
voice, " For there is always war along the Border
— as I know."
It was an old, withered man, who had served the
Government in the days of the Mutiny as a native
ofBcer in a newly raised cavalry regiment. The
Government had given him a good holding in the
village, and though the demands of his sons, now
76
KIM
gray-bearded officers on their own account, had
impoverished him, he was still a person of conse-
quence. English officials — Deputy Commission-
ers even — turned aside from the main road to
visit him, and on those occasions he dressed him-
self in the uniform of ancient days, and stood up
like a ramrod,
" But this shall be a great war — a war of eight
thousand," Kim's voice shrilled across the quick-
gathering crowd, astonishing himself.
" Redcoats or our own regiments'?" the old man
snapped, as though he were asking an equal. His
tone made men respect Kim.
" Redcoats," said Kim at a venture. " Redcoats
and guns."
" But — but the astrologer said no word of
this," cried the lama, snuffing prodigiously in his
excitement.
" But / know. The word has come to me, who
am this Holy One's disciple. There will rise a
war — a war of eight thousand redcoats. From
Pindi and Peshawur they will be drawn. This is
sure."
" The boy has heard bazar-talk," said the priest.
" But he was always by my side," said the lama.
" How should he know ? I did not know."
" He will make a clever juggler when the old
man is dead," muttered the priest to the headman.
" What new trick is this ? "
77
KIM
" A sign. Give me a sign," thundered the old
soldier suddenly. " If there were war my sons
would have told me."
" When all is ready, thy sons, doubt not, will be
told. But it is a long road from thy sons to the
man in whose hands these things lie." Kim warmed
to the game, for it reminded him of experiences in
the letter-carrying line, when, for the sake of a tew
pice, he pretended to know more than he knew.
But now he was playing for larger things — the
sheer excitement and the sense of power. He
drew a new breath and went on.
" Old man, give me a sign. Do underlings order
the goings of eight thousand redcoats — with
guns ? "
"No." Still tne old man answered as though
Kim were an equal.
" Dost thou know who He is then that gives the
order?"
"• I have seen Him."
"" To know again ? "
" I have known Him since He was a lieutenant in
the top-khana (the Artillery)."
"A tall man. A tall man with black hair,
walking thus'?" Kim took a few paces in a stiff,
wooden style.
" Ay. But that any one may have seen." The
crowd were breathless-still through all this talk.
" That is true," said Kim. "But I will say more.
78
KIM
Look now. First the great man walks thus. Then
He thinks thus. (Kim drew a forefinger over his
forehead and downwards till it came to rest by the
angle of the jaw.) Anon He twitches his fingers
thus. Anon He thrusts his hat under his left
armpit." Kim illustrated the motion and stood
like a stork.
The old man groaned, inarticulate with amaze-
ment ; and the crowd shivered.
" So — so — so. But what does He when He is
about to give an order? "
" He rubs the skin at the back of his neck —
thus. Then falls one finger on the table and He
makes a small sniffing noise through his nose.
Then He speaks, saying : ' Loose such and such a
regiment. Call out such guns.' "
The old man rose stiffly and saluted.
"'For'" — Kim translated into the vernacular
the clinching sentences he had heard in the dressing-
room at Umballa — "'For,' says He, 'we should
have done this long ago. It is not war — it is
a chastisement. SnfFI ' "
" Enough. I believe. I have seen Him thus
in the smoke of battles. Seen and heard. It is
He! "
" I saw no smoke " — Kim's voice shifted to the
rapt sing-song of the wayside fortune-teller. " I
saw this in darkness. First came a man to make
things clear. Then came horsemen. Then came
79
KIM
He, standing in a ring of light. The rest followed
as I have said. Old man, have I spoken truth *? "
" It is He. Past all doubt it is He."
The crowd drew a long, quavering breath, star-
ing alternately at the old man, still at attention,
and ragged Kim against the purple twilight.
" Said I not — said I not he was from the other
world *? " cried the lama proudly. " He is the
Friend of all the World. He is the Friend of the
Stars ! "
" At least it does not concern us," a man cried.
" O thou young soothsayer, if the gift abides with
thee at all seasons, I have a red-spotted cow. She
may be sister to thy Bull for aught I know — "
" Or I care," said Kim. " My Stars do not con-
cern themselves with thy cattle."
" Nay, but she is very sick," a woman struck in.
" My man is a buffalo, or he would have chosen
his words better. Tell me if she recover *? "
Had Kim been at all an ordinary boy, he would
have carried on the play; but one does not know
Lahore city, and least of all the faquirs by the
Taksali Gate, for thirteen years without also
knowing human nature.
The priest looked at him sideways, something
bitterly — a dry and blighting smile.
" Is there no priest then in the village ? I
thought I had seen a great one even now," cried
Kim.
80
KIM
" Ay — but — " the woman began.
" But thou and thy husband hoped to get the
cow cured for a handful of thanks." The shot
told : they were notoriously the closest-fisted
couple in the village. " It is not well to cheat the
temples. Give a young calf to thy own priest,
and, unless thy gods are angry past recall, she will
give milk within a month."
" A master-beggar art thou," purred the priest
approvingly. " Not the cunning of forty years
could have done better. Surely thou hast made
the old man rich *? "
" A little flour, a little butter, and a mouthful of
cardamoms," Kim retorted, flushed with the praise,
but still cautious — "does one grow rich on that?
And, as thou canst see, he is mad. But it serves
me while I learn the road at least."
He knew what the faquirs of the Taksali Gate
were like when they talked among themselves, and
copied the very inflection of their lewd disciples.
" Is his Search, then, truth or a cloak to other
ends *? It may be treasure."
" He is mad — many times mad. There is noth-
ing else."
Here the old soldier hobbled up and asked if
Kim would accept his hospitality for the night.
The priest recommended him to do so, but insisted
that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged
to the temple — at which the lama smiled guile-
81
KIM
lessly. Kim glanced from one face to the other,
and drew his own conclusions,
" Where is the money *? " he whispered, beckon-
inir the old man off into the darkness.
" In my bosom. Where else ? "
" Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me."
" But why *? Here is no ticket to buy."
" Am I thy chela^ or am I not *? Do I not safe-
guard thy old feet about the ways? Give me the
money and at dawn I will return it." He slipped
his hand above the lama's girdle and brought away
the purse.
" Be it so — be it so." The old man nodded his
head. " This is a great and terrible world. I
never knew there were so many men alive in it."
Next morning the priest was in a very bad
temper, but the lama was quite happy; and Kim
had enjoyed a most interesting evening with the
old man, who brought out his cavalry sabre and,
balancing it on his dry knees, told tales of the
Mutiny and young captains thirty years in their
graves, till Kim dropped off to sleep.
" Certainly the air of this country is good," said
the lama. " I sleep lightly, as do all old men ; but
last night I slept unwaking till broad day. Even
now I am heavy."
"Drink a draught of hot milk," said Kim, who had
carried not a few such remedies to opium-smokers of
his acquaintance. "It is time to take the road again."
82
KIM
" The long road that overpasses all the rivers of
Hind," said the lama gaily. " Let us go. But
how thinkest thou, chela, to recompense these peo-
ple, and especially the priest, for their great kind-
ness'? Truly they are hiit-parast., but in other
lives, maybe, they will receive enlightenment. A
rupee to the temple *? The thing within is no
more than stone and red paint, but the heart of
man we must acknowledge when and where it is
good."
"Holy One, hast thou ever taken the road
alone ? " Kim looked up sharply, like the Indian
crows so busy about the fields.
" Surely, child : from Kulu to Pathankot — from
Kulu, where my first chela died. When men
were kind to us we made offerings, and all men
were well-disposed throughout all the Hills."
" It is otherwise in Hind," said Kim drily.
" Their gods are many-armed and malignant. Let
them alone."
" I would set thee on thy road for a little. Friend
of all the World — thou and thy yellow man."
The old soldier ambled up the village street, all
shadowy in the dawn, on a gaunt, scissor-hocked
pony. " Last night broke up the fountains of
remembrance in my so-dried heart, and it was as
a blessing to me. Truly there is war abroad in
the air. I smell it. See ! I have brought my
sword."
83
KIM
He sat long-legged on the little beast, with the
big sword at his side, — hand dropped on the pom-
mel,— staring fiercely over the flat lands towards
the north. " Tell me again how He showed in
thy vision. Come up and sit behind me. The
beast will carry two."
" I am this Holy One's disciple," said Kim, as
they cleared the village-gate. The villagers seemed
almost sorry to be rid of them, but the priest's tare-
well was cold and distant. He had wasted some
opium on a man who carried no money.
" That is well spoken. I am not much used to
holy men, but respect is always good. There is no
respect in these days — not even when a Commis-
sioner Sahib comes to see me. But why should
one whose Star leads him to war follow a holy
man ? "
" But he is a holy man," said Kim earnestly.
" In truth, and in talk and in act, holy. He is
not like the others. I have never seen such an
one. We be not fortune-tellers, or jugglers, or
beggars."
" Thou art not, that I can see ; but I do not
know that other. He marches well, though."
The first freshness of the day carried the lama
forward with long, easy, camel-like strides. He
was deep in meditation, mechanically clicking his
rosary.
They followed the rutted and worn country
KIM
road that wound across the flat between the great
dark-green mango-groves, the line of the snow-
capped Himalayas faint to the eastward. All
India was at work in the fields, to the creaking of
well-wheels, the shouting of ploughmen behind
their cattle, and the clamour of the crows. Even
the pony felt the good influence and almost broke
into a trot as Kim laid a hand on the stirrup-
leather.
" It repents me that I did not give a rupee to
the shrine," said the lama on the last bead of his
eighty-one.
The old soldier growled in his beard, so that
the lama for the first time was aware of him.
" Seekest thou the River also ? " said he,
turning.
" The day is new," was the reply. " What
need of a river save to water at before sundown ?
I come to show thee a short lane to the Big Road."
" That is a courtesy to be remembered, O man
of good will ; but why the sword ? "
The old soldier looked as abashed as a child
interrupted in his game of make-believe.
" The sword," he said, fumbling it. " Oh, that
was a fancy of mine — an old man's fancy. Truly
the police orders are that no man must bear
weapons throughout Hind, but " — he cheered up
and slapped the hilt — " all the constabeels here-
about know me."
85
KIM
" It is not a good fancy," said the lama, "What
profit to kill men*?"
" Very little — as I know ; but if evil men were
not now and then slain it would not be a good
world for weaponless dreamers. I do not speak
without knowledge who have seen the land from
Delhi south awash with blood."
" What madness was that, then ? "
" The Gods, who sent it for a plague, alone
know. A madness ate into all the Army, and
they turned against their officers. That was the
first evil, but not past remedy if they had then
held their hands. But they chose to kill the
Sahibs' wives and children. Then came the Sa-
hibs from over the sea and called them to most
strict account."
" Some such rumour, I believe, reached me once
long ago. They called it the Black Year, as I
remember."
" What manner of life hast thou led, not to
know The Year? A rumour indeed! All earth
knew, and trembled."
"Our earth never shook but once — upon the day
that the Excellent One received Enlightenment."
" Umph I I saw Delhi shake at least ; and Delhi
is the navel of the world."
" So they turned against women and children *?
That was a bad deed, for which the punishment
cannot be avoided."
86
THE RESSALDAR
KIM
•' It is not a good fancy," said the lama. "What
profit to kill men ^ "
•' Very little — as I know ; but if evil men were
not now and then slain it would not be a good
world for weaponless dreamers. I do not speak
without knowledge who have seen the land from
Delhi south awash with blood."
" What madness was that, then *? "
'' The Gods, who sent it for a plague, alone
know. A madness ate into all the Army, and
they turned against their officers. That was the
first evil, but not past remedy if they had then
held their hands. But they chose to kill the
Sahibs' wives and children. Then came the Sa-
hibs from over the sea and called them to most
strict account."
" Some such rumour, I believe, reached me once
long ago. They called it the Black Year, as I
remember."
" What manner of life hast thou led, not to
know The Year ? A rumour indeed ! All earth
knew, and trembled."
"Our earth never shook but once — upon the day
that the Excellent One received Enlightenment."
" Umph I I saw Delhi shake at least ; and Delhi
is the navel of the world."
" So they turned against women and children *?
That was a bad deed, for which the punishment
cannot be avoid^«J^^^a>l hht
86
KIM
" Many strove to do so, but with very small
profit, I was then in a regiment of cavalry. It
broke. Of six hundred and eighty sabres stood
fast to their salt — how many think you *? Three.
Of whom I was one."
" The greater merit."
" Merit ! We did not consider it merit in those
days. My people, my friends, my brothers fell
from me. They said : ' The time of the English
is accomplished. Let each strike out a little hold-
ing for himself But I had talked with the men
of Sobraon, of Chillianwallah, of Moodkee and
Ferozeshah. I said : ' Abide a little and the wind
turns. There is no blessing in this work.' In
those days I rode seventy miles with an English
mem-sahib and her babe on my saddle-bow.
(Wow ! That was a horse fit for a man !) I
placed them in safety, and back came I to my
officer — the one that was not killed of our five.
' Give me work,' said I, ' for I am an outcast
among my own kin, and my cousin's blood is wet
on my sabre.' ' Be content,' said he. ' There is
great work forward. When this madness is over
there is a recompense.' "
" Ay, there is a recompense when the madness is
over, surely ? " the lama muttered half to himself.
" They did not hang medals in those days on all
who by accident had heard a gun fired. No ! In
nineteen pitched battles was I ; in six-and-forty
87
KIM
skirmishes of horse ; and in small affairs without
number. Nine wounds I bear; a medal and four
clasps and the medal of an Order, for my captains,
who are now generals, remembered me when the
Kaiser-i-Hind had accomplished fifty years of her
reign, and all the land rejoiced. They said :
' Give him the Order of Berittish India.' I carry
it upon my neck. now. I have also my jaghir
(holding) from the hands of the State — a free gift
to me and mine. The men of the old days — they
are now Commissioners — come riding to me
through the crops, — high upon horses so that all
the village sees, — and we talk out the old skir-
mishes, one dead man's name leading to another."
" And after *? " said the lama.
" Oh, afterwards they go away, but not before
my village has seen."
" And at the last what wilt thou do ? "
" At the last I shall die."
*'And after'?"
" Let the Gods order it. I have never pestered
them with prayers: I do not think they will pester
me. Look you, I have noticed in my long life that
those who eternally break in upon Those Above
with complaints and reports and bellowings and
weepings are presently sent for in haste, as our
colonel used to send for slack-jawed down-country
men who talked too much. No, I have never
wearied the Gods. They will remember this, and
88
KIM
give me a quiet place where I can drive my lance
in the shade, and wait to welcome my sons: I have
no less than three — ressaldar-majors all — in the
regiments."
" And they likewise, bound upon the Wheel, go
forth from life to life — from despair to despair,"
said the lama below his breath, "hot, uneasy,
snatching."
" Ay," the old soldier chuckled. " Three
ressaldar-majors in three regiments. Gamblers a
little, but so am I. They must be well-mounted ;
and one cannot take the horses as in the old days
one took women. Well, well, my holding can
pay for all. How thinkest thou ? It is a well-
watered strip, but my men cheat me. I do not
know how to ask save at the lance's point. Ugh I
I grow angry and I curse them, and they feign
penitence, but behind my back I know they call
me a toothless old ape."
" Hast thou never desired any other thing ? "
" Yes — yes — a thousand times I A straight
back and a close-clinging knee once more ; a quick
wrist and a keen eye ; and the marrow that makes
a man. Oh, the old days — the good days of my
strength I "
"That strength is weakness."
" It has turned so ; but fifty years since I could
have proved it otherwise," the old soldier retorted,
driving his stirrup-edge into the pony's lean flank.
89
KIM
"But I know a River of great healing."
" I have drank Gunga-water to the edge of
dropsy. All she gave me was a flux, and no sort
of strength."
" It is not Gunga. The River that I know
washes from all taint of sin. Ascending the far
bank one is assured of Freedom. I do not know
thy life, but thy face is the face of the honourable
and courteous. Thou hast clung to thy Way,
rendering fidelity when it was hard to give, in
that Black Year of which I now remember other
tales. Enter now upon the Middle Way, which is
the path to Freedom. Hear the Most Excellent
Law, and do not follow dreams,"
" Speak then, old man," the soldier smiled, half
saluting. " We be all babblers at our age."
The lama squatted under the shade of a mango,
whose shadow played checkerwise over his face ;
the soldier sat stiffly on the pony; and Kim, making
sure that there were no snakes, lay down in the
crotch of the twisted roots.
There was a drowsy buzz of small life in hot
sunshine, a cooing of doves, and a sleepy drone
of well-wheels across the fields. Slowly and im-
pressively the lama began. At the end of ten
minutes the old soldier slid from his pony, to hear
better as he said, and sat with the reins round his
wrist. The lama's voice faltered — the periods
90
KIM
lengthened. Kim was busy watching a gray
squirrel. When the little scolding bunch of fur,
close pressed to the branch, disappeared, preacher
and audience were fast asleep, the old officer's
strong-cut head pillowed on his arm, the lama's
thrown back against the tree bole, where it showed
like yellow ivory. A naked child toddled up,
stared, and, moved by some quick impulse of
reverence, made a solemn little obeisance before
the lama — only the child was so short and fat that
it toppled over sideways, and Kim laughed at the
sprawling, chubby legs. The child, scared and
indignant, yelled aloud.
" Hai I Hai ! " said the soldier, leaping to his
feet. "What is it? What orders? ... It is
... a child ! I dreamed it was an alarm. Little
one — little one — do not cry. Have I slept?
That was discourteous indeed I "
" I fear I I am afraid ! " roared the child.
" What is it to fear ? Two old men and a boy ?
How wilt thou ever make a soldier, Princeling ? "
The lama had waked too, but, taking no direct
notice of the child, clicked his rosary.
" What is that ? " said the child, stopping a yell
midway. " I have never seen such things. Give
them me."
"Aha," said the lama, smiling, and trailing a loop
of it on the grass :
91
KIM
** This is a handful of cardamoms.
This is a lump of gbi :
This is millet and chillies and rice,
A supper for thee and me! "
The child shrieked with joy, and snatched at the
dark, glancing beads.
"Oho!" said the old soldier. "Whence had-
thou that song, despiser of this world *? "
" I learned it in Pathankot — sitting on a door-
step," said the lama shyly. " It is good to be
kind to babes."
"As I remember, before the sleep came on us,
thou hadst told me that marriage and bearing were
darkeners of the true light, stumbling-blocks upon
the way. Do children drop from heaven in thy
country '? Is it the Way to sing them songs ? "
" No man is all perfect," said the lama gravely,
re-coiling the rosary. " Run now to thy mother,
little one."
" Hear him I " said the soldier to Kim. " He is
ashamed for that he has made a child happy.
There was a very good householder lost in thee,
my brother. Hai, child 1 " He threw it a pice.
" Sweetmeats are always sweet." And as the little
figure capered away into the sunshine : " They
grow up and become men. Holy One, I grieve
that I slept in the midst of thy preaching. Forgive
me."
" We be two old men," said the lama. " The
92
KIM
fault is mine. I listened to thy talk of the world
and its madness, and one fault led to the next."
" Hear him ! What harm do thy Gods suffer
from play with a babe ? And that song was very
well sung. Let us go on and I will sing thee
the song of Nikal Seyn before Delhi — the old
, song."
And they fared out from the gloom of the
mango tope, the old man's high, shrill voice ring-
ing across the field, as wail by long-drawn wail he
unfolded the story of Nikal Seyn (Nicholson) —
the song that men sing in the Punjab to this day.
Kim was delighted, and the lama listened with
deep interest.
" Ahil Nikal Seyn is dead — he died before
Delhi! Lances of North take vengeance for Nikal
Seyn." He quavered it out to the end, marking
the trills with the flat of his sword on the pony's
rump.
" And now we come to the Big Road," said he,
after receiving the compliments of Kim ; for the
lama was markedly silent. "It is long since I have
ridden this way, but thy boy's talk stirred me. See,
Holy One — the Great Road which is the back-
bone of all Hind. For the most part it is shaded,
as here, with four lines of trees ; the middle road
— all hard — takes the quick traffic. In the days
before rail-carriages the Sahibs travelled up and
down here in hundreds. Now there are only
93
KIM
country-carts and such like. Left and right is the
rougher road for the heavy carts — grain and
cotton and timber, bhoosa, lime, and hides. A
man goes in safety here — for at every few kos is a
police-station. The police are thieves and ex-
tortioners (I myself would patrol it with cavalry —
young recruits under a strong captain), but at
least they do not suffer any rivals. All castes and
kinds of men move here. Look ! Brahmins and
chumars, bankers and tinkers, barbers and bunnyas,
pilgrims and potters — all the world going and
coming. It is to me as a river from which I am
withdrawn like a log after a flood."
And truly the Grand Trunk Road is a won-
derful spectacle. It runs straight, bearing without
crowding India's traffic for fifteen hundred miles
— such a river of life as nowhere else exists in the
world. They looked at the green-arched, shade-
flecked length of it, the white breadth speckled
with slow-pacing folk; and the two-roomed police-
station opposite.
" Who bears arms against the law ? " a con-
stable called out laughingly, as he caught sight
of the soldier's sword. "Are not the police
enough to destroy evil-doers ^ "
" It was because of the police I bought it,"
was the answer. " Does all go well in Hind *? "
" Ressaldar Sahib, all goes well."
"I am like an old tortoise, look you, who puts
94
KIM
his head out from the bank and draws it in again.
Ay, this is the road of Hindustan. All men
come by this way. . . ."
" Son of a swine, is the soft part of the road
meant for thee to scratch thy back upon ? Father
of all the daughters of shame and husband often
thousand virtueless ones, thy mother was devoted to
a devil, being led thereto by her mother ; thy aunts
have never had a nose for seven generations I Thy
sister ! — What owl's folly told thee to draw thy carts
across the road ? A broken wheel ? Then take a
broken head and put the two together at leisure ! "
The voice and a venomous whip-cracking came
out of a pillar of dust fifty yards away, where a
cart had broken down. A thin, high Kattiwar
mare, with eyes and nostrils aflame, rocketted out
of the jam, snorting and wincing as her rider bent
her across the road in chase of a shouting man. He
was tall and gray-bearded, sitting the almost mad
beast as a piece of her, and scientifically lashing
his victim between plunges.
The old man's face lit with pride. " My
child ! " said he briefly, and strove to rein the
pony's neck to a fitting arch.
" Am I to be beaten before the police *? " cried
the carter. " Justice ! I will have Justice — "
" Am I to be blocked by a shouting ape who
upsets ten thousand sacks under a young horse's
nose ? That is the way to ruin a mare."
95
KIiM
" He speaks truth. He speaks truth. But she
follows her man close," said the old man. The
carter ran under the wheels of his cart and thence
threatened all sorts of vengeance.
" They are strong men, thy sons," said the police-
man serenely, picking his teeth.
The horseman delivered one last vicious cut
with his whip and came on at a canter.
"My father!" He reined back ten yards and
dismounted.
The old man was off his pony in an instant,
and they embraced as do father and son in the
East.
96
IV
Good Luck, she is never a lady.
But the cursedest quean alive.
Tricksy, wincing, and jady —
Kittle to lead or drive.
Greet her — she's hailing a stranger!
Meet her — she's busking to leave!
Let her alone for a shrew to the bone
And the hussy comes plucking your sleeve!
Largesse! Largesse, O Fortune!
Give or hold at your will.
If I've no care for Fortune,
Fortune must follow me still !
The Wishing Caps.
Then, lowering their voices, they spoke together.
Kim came to rest under a tree, but the lama tugged
impatiently at his elbow.
" Let us go on. The River is not here."
" Hai mai ! Have we not walked enough for
a little ? Our River will not run away. Patience,
and he will give us a dole."
" That," said the old soldier suddenly, " is the
Friend of the Stars. He brought me the news
97
KIM
yesterday. Having seen the very man Himself, in
a vision, giving orders for the war."
" Hml " said his son, all deep in his broad chest.
" He came by a bazar-rumour and made profit of
it."
His father laughed. "At least he did not
ride to me begging for a new charger and the
gods know how many rupees. Are thy brothers'
regiments also under orders *? "
" I do not know. I took leave and came swiftly
to thee in case — "
" In case they ran before thee to beg. O
gamblers and spendthrifts all! But thou hast
never yet ridden in a charge. A good horse is
needed there, truly. A good follower and a good
pony also for the marching. Let us see — let us
see." He thrummed on the pommel.
" This is no place to cast accounts in, my father.
Let us go to thy house."
"At least pay the boy then: I have no pice
with me, and he brought auspicious news. Ho!
Friend of all the World, a war is toward as thou
hast said."
"Nay, as I know, the war," returned Kim com-
posedly.
" Eh ? " said the lama, fingering his beads, all
eager for the road.
" My master does not trouble the Stars for hire.
We brought the news — bear witness, we brought
98
KIM
the news, and now we go." Kim half-crooked his
hand at his side.
The son tossed a silver coin through the sun-
light, grumbling something about beggars and
jugglers. It was a four-anna piece, and would
feed them well for some days. The lama, seeing
the flash of the metal, droned a blessing.
" Go thy way, Friend of all the World," piped
the old soldier, wheeling his scrawny mount. "For
once in all my days I have met a true prophet —
who was not in the Army."
Father and son swung round together : the
old man sitting as erect as the younger.
A Punjabi constable in yellow linen trousers
slouched across the road. He had seen the money
pass.
" Halt!" he cried in impressive English. " Know
ye not that there is a takhis of two annas a head,
which is four annas, on those who enter the road
from this side-road"? It is the order of the Sirkar,
and the money is spent for the planting of trees
and the beautification of the ways."
" And the bellies of the police," said Kim, skip-
ping out of arm's reach. " Consider for awhile,
man with a mud head. Think you we came
from the nearest pond like the frog, thy father-
in-law*? Hast thou ever heard the name of thy
brother?"
" And who was he *? Leave the boy alone,"
99
KIM
cried a senior constable, immensely delighted, as
he squatted down to smoke his pipe in the
verandah.
" He took, a label from a bottle of helaitee-pani
(soda-water), and, affixing it to a bridge, collected
taxes for a month from those who passed, saying
that it was the Sirkar's order. Then came an
Englishman and broke his head. Ah, brother, I
am a town-crow, not a village-crow! "
The policeman drew back abashed, and Kim
hooted at him all down the road.
" Was there ever such a disciple as I ^ " he cried
merrily to the lama. " All earth would have picked
thy bones within ten mile of Lahore city if I had
not guarded thee."
" I consider in my own mind whether thou art
a spirit, sometimes, or sometimes an evil imp,"
said the lama, smiling slowly.
" I am thy chela'' Kim dropped into step at his
side — that indescribable gait of the long-distance
tramp all the world over.
" Now let us walk," muttered the lama, and to
the click of his rosary they walked in silence
mile upon mile. The lama, as usual, was deep in
meditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide.
This broad, smiling river of life, he considered,
was a vast improvement on the cramped and
crowded Lahore streets. There were new people
and new sights at every stride — castes he knew
lOO
KIM
cried a senior constable, immensely delighted, as
he squatted down to smoke his pipe in the
verandah.
" He took, a label from a bottle of bclaitee-pani
(soda-water), and, affixing it to a bridge, collected
taxes for a month from those who passed, saying
that it was the Sirkar's order. Then came an
Englishman and broke his head. Ah, brother, I
am a town-crow, not a village-crow I "
The policeman drew back abashed, and Kim
hooted at him all down the road.
" Was there ever such a disciple as I ? " he cried
merrily to the lama. " All earth would have picked
thy bones within ten mile of Lahore city if I had
not guarded thee."
" I consider in my own mind whether thou art
a spirit, sometimes, or sometimes an evil imp,"'
said the lama, smiling slowly.
" I am thy chelay Kim dropped into step at his
side — that indescribable gait of the longklistance
tramp all the world over.
" Now let us walk," muttered the lama, and to
the click of his rosary they walked in silence
mile upon mile. The lama, as usual, was deep in
meditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide.
This broad, smiling river of life, he considered,
was a vast improvement on the cramped and
crowded Lahore streets. There were new people
and new sights at every stride — castes he\ knew
lOO
KIM
and castes that were altogether out of his experi-
ence.
They met a troop of long-haired, strong-scented
Sansis with baskets of lizards and other unclean
food on their backs, the lean dogs sniffing at their
heels. These people kept their own side of the
road, moving at a quick, furtive jog-trot, and all
other castes gave them ample room ; for the Sansi
is deep pollution. Behind them, walking wide
and stiffly across the strong shadows, the memory
of his leg-irons still on him, strode one newly
released from the jail; his full stomach and shiny
skin to prove that the Government fed its prisoners
better than most honest men could feed themselves.
Kim knew that walk well, and made broad jest of
it as they passed. Then an Akali, a wild-eyed,
wild-haired Sikh devotee in the blue-checked clothes
of his faith, with polished-steel quoits glistening
on the cone of his tall blue turban, stalked past,
returning from a visit to one of the independent
Sikh States, where he had been singing the ancient
glories of the Khalsa to College-trained princelings
in top-boots and white-cord breeches. Kim was
careful not to irritate that man; for the Akali's
temper is short and his arm quick. Here and
there they met or were overtaken by the gaily
dressed crowds of whole villages turning out to
some local fair; the women, with their babes on
their hips, walking behind the men, the older
loi
KIM
boys prancing on sticks of sugar-cane, dragging
rude brass models of locomotives such as they sell
for a halfpenny, or flashing the sun into the eyes
of their betters from cheap toy mirrors. One
could see at a glance what each had bought ; and
if there were any doubt it needed only to watch
the wives comparing, brown arm against brown
arm, the newly purchased dull glass bracelets that
come from the North-West. These merry-makers
stepped slowly, calling one to the other and stopping
to haggle with sweetmeat-sellers, or to make a
prayer before one of the wayside shrines — some-
times Hindu, sometimes Mussalman — which the
low caste of both creeds share with beautiful
impartiality. A solid line of blue, rising and falling
like the back of a caterpillar in haste, would swing
up through the quivering dust and trot past to a
chorus of quick cackling. That was a gang of
changars — the women who have taken all the
embankments of all the Northern railways under
their charge — a flat-footed, big-bosomed, strong-
limbed, blue-petticoated clan of earth-carriers,
hurrying north on news of a job, and wasting no
time by the road. They belong to the caste whose
men do not count, and they walked with squared
elbows, swinging hips, and heads on high, as suits
women who carry heavy weights. A little later a
marriage procession would strike into the Grand
Trunk with music and shoutings, and a smell of
102
KIM
marigold and jasmine stronger even than the reek
of the dust. One could see the bride's litter, a
blur of red and tinsel, staggering through the haze,
while the bridegroom's bewreathed pony turned
aside to snatch a mouthful from a passing fodder-
cart. Then Kim would join the Kentish-fire of
good wishes and bad jokes, wishing the couple a
hundred sons and no daughters, as the saying is.
Still more interesting and more to be shouted over
it was when a strolling juggler with some half-
trained monkeys, or a panting, feeble bear, or a
woman who tied goats' horns to her feet, and with
these danced on a slack-rope, set the horses to
shying and the women to shrill, long-drawn quavers
of amazement.
The lama never raised his eyes. He did not
note the money-lender on his goose-rumped pony,
hastening along to collect the cruel interest; or the
long-shouting, deep-voiced little mob — still in
military formation — of native soldiers on leave,
rejoicing to be rid of their breeches and puttees,
and saying the most outrageous things to the
most respectable women in sight. Even the
seller of Ganges- water he did not see, and Kim
expected that he would at least buy a bottle of
that precious stuff. He looked steadily at the
ground, and strode as steadily hour after hour,
his soul busied elsewhere. But Kim was in
the seventh heaven of joy. The Grand Trunk
103
KIM
at this point was built on an embankment to
guard against winter floods from the foothills, so
.that one walked, as it were, a little above the
country, along a stately corridor, seeing all India
spread out to left and right. It was beautiful to
behold the many-yoked grain and cotton waggons
crawling over the country roads: one could hear
their axles, complaining a mile away, coming
nearer, till with shouts and yells and bad words
they climbed up the steep incline and plunged on
to the hard main road, carter reviling carter. It
was equally beautiful to watch the people, little
clumps of red and blue and pink and white and
saffron, turning aside to go to their own villages,
dispersing and growing small by twos and threes
across the level plain. Kim felt these things,
though he could not give tongue to his feelings,
and so contented himself with buying peeled sugar-
cane and spitting the pith generously about his
path. From time to time the lama took snuff, and
at last Kim could endure the silence no longer.
" This is a good land — the land of the South I "
said he. " The air is good ; the water is good.
Eh?"
"And they are all bound upon the Wheel,"
said the lama. " Bound from life after life. To
none of these has the Way been shown." He
shook himself back to this world.
" And now we have walked a weary way," said
104
KIM
Kim. " Surely we shall soon come to a parao (a
resting-place). Shall we stay there ? Look, the
sun is sloping."
" Who will receive us this evening ? "
" That is all one. This country is full of good
folk. Besides," — he sunk his voice beneath a
whisper, — " we have money."
The crowd thickened as they neared the resting-
place which marked the end of their day's journey.
A line of stalls selling very simple food and to-
bacco, a stack of firewood, a police-station, a well,
a horse-trough, a few trees, and, under them, some
trampled ground dotted with the black ashes of old
fires, are all that mark a parao on the Grand Trunk ;
if you except the beggars and the crows — both
hungry.
By this time the sun was driving broad golden
spokes through the lower branches of the mango-
trees ; the parakeets and doves were coming home
in their hundreds ; the chattering, gray-backed
Seven Sisters, talking over the day's adventures,
walked back and forth in twos and threes almost
under the feet of the travellers ; and shufflings
and scufflings in the branches showed that the
bats were ready to go out on the night-picket.
Swiftly the light gathered itself together, painted
for an instant the faces and the cart-wheels and
the bullocks' horns as red as blood. Then the
night fell, changing the touch of the air, drawing
105
KIM
a low, even haze, like a gossamer veil of blue,
across the face of the country, and bringing out,
keen and distinct, the smell of wood-smoke and
cattle and the good scent of wheaten cakes cooked
on ashes. The evening patrol hurried out of the
police-station with important coughings and re-
iterated orders ; and a live charcoal ball in the cup
of a wayside carter's hookah glowed red while
Kim's eye mechanically watched the last flicker
of the sun on the brass tweezers.
The life of the parao was very like that of the
Kashmir Serai on a small scale. Kim dived into
the happy Asiatic disorder which, if you only
allow time, will bring you everything that a simple
man needs.
His wants were few, because, since the lama
had no caste scruples, cooked food from the
nearest stall would serve ; but, for luxury's sake,
Kim bought a handful of dung-cakes to build a
fire. All about, coming and going round the
little flames, men cried for oil, or grain, or sweet-
meats, or tobacco, jostling one another while they
waited their turn at the well ; and under the men's
voices you heard from halted, shuttered carts the
high squeals and giggles of women whose faces
should not be seen in public.
Nowadays, well-educated natives are of opinion
that when their womenfolk travel — and they visit
a good deal — it is better to take them quickly by
106
KIM
rail in a properly screened compartment ; and that
custom is spreading. But there are always those
of the old rock who hold by the use of their fore-
fathers ; and, above all, there are always the old
women, — more conservative than the men, — who
towards the end of their days go a pilgrimage.
They, being withered and undesirable, do not,
under certain circumstances, object to unveiling.
After their long seclusion, during which they have
always been in business touch with a thousand
outside interests, they love the bustle and stir of
the open road, the gatherings at the shrines, and
the infinite possibilities of gossip with like-minded
dowagers. Very often it suits a long-suffering
family that a strong-tongued, iron-willed old lady
should disport herself about India in this fashion ;
for certainly pilgrimage is grateful to the Gods.
So all about India, in the most remote places,
as in the most public, you find some knot of
grizzled servitors in nominal charge of an old
lady who is more or less curtained and hid away
in a bullock-cart. Such men are staid and dis-
creet, and when a European or a high-caste native
is near will net their charge with most elaborate
precautions ; but in the ordinary haphazard chances
of pilgrimage the precautions are not taken. The
old lady is, after all, intensely human, and lives to
look upon life.
Kim marked down a gaily ornamented ruth or
107
KIM
family bullock-cart, with a broidered canopy of
two domes, like a double-humped camel, which
had just been drawn into the parao. Eight men
made its retinue, and two of the eight were armed
with rusty sabres — sure signs that they followed a
person of distinction, for the common folk do not
bear arms. An increasing cackle of complaints,
orders, and jests, and what to a European would
have been bad language, came from behind the
curtains. Here was evidently a woman used to
command.
Kim looked over the retinue critically. Half
of them were thin-legged, gray-bearded Ooryas
from down country. The other half were duffle-
clad, felt-hatted hillmen of the North; and that mix-
ture told its own tale, even if he had not overheard
the incessant sparring between the two divisions.
The old lady was going south on a visit — probably
to a rich relative, most probably to a son-in-law,
who had sent up an escort as a mark of respect.
The hillmen would be of her own people — Kulu
or Kangra folk. It was quite clear that she was
not taking her daughter down to be wedded, or
the curtains would have been laced home and the
guard would have allowed no one near the car. A
merry and a high-spirited dame, thought Kim,
balancing the dung-cake in one hand, the cooked
food in the other, and piloting the lama with a
nudging shoulder. Something might be made
108
KIM
out of the meeting. The lama would give him no
help, but, as a conscientious chela^ Kim was de-
lighted to beg for two.
He built his fire as close to the cart as he dared,
waiting for one of the escort to order him away.
The lama dropped wearily to the ground, much
as a heavy fruit-eating bat cowers, and returned to
his rosary.
" Stand farther off, beggar I " The order was
shouted in broken Hindustanee by one of the hill-
men.
" Huh ! It is only a pahari (a hillman)," said
Kim over his shoulder. " Since when have the
hill-asses owned all Hindustan ? "
The retort was a swift and brilliant sketch of
Kim's pedigree for three generations.
" Ah ! " Kim's voice was sweeter than ever, as
he broke the dung-cake into fit pieces. " In ?ny
country we call that the beginning of love-talk."
A harsh, thin cackle behind the curtains put the
hillman on his mettle for a second shot.
" Not so bad — not so bad," said Kim with
calm. " But have a care, my brother, lest we — we,
I say — be minded to give a curse or so in return.
And our curses have the knack of biting home."
The Ooryas laughed; the hillman sprang for-
ward threateningly; the lama suddenly raised his
head, bringing his huge tam-o'-shanter cap into the
full light of Kim's new-started fire.
109
KIM
" What is it ? " said he.
The man halted as though struck to stone. " I
— I — am saved from a great sin," he stammered.
" The foreigner has found him a priest at last,"
whispered one of the Ooryas.
" Hai ! Why is that beggar-brat not well
beaten ? " the old woman cried.
The hillman drew back to the cart and whis-
pered something to the curtain. There was dead
silence, then a muttering.
" This goes well," thought Kim, pretending
neither to see nor hear.
" When — when — he has eaten " — the hillman
fawned on Kim — "it — it is requested that the
Holy One will do the honour to talk to one who
would speak to him."
'• After he has eaten he will sleep," Kim returned
loftily. He could not quite see what new turn
the game had taken, but stood resolute to profit
by it. " Now, I will get him his food." The last
sentence, spoken loudly, ended with a sigh as of
faintness.
"I — I myself and the others of my people will
look to that — if it is permitted."
"It is permitted," said Kim, more loftily than
ever. " Holy One, these people will bring us food."
" The land is good. All the country of the
South is good — a great and a terrible world,"
mumbled the lama drowsily.
no
KIM
"Let him sleep," said Kim, "but look to it that
we are well fed when he wakes. He is a very holy
man."
Again one of the Ooryas said something con-
temptuously.
" He is not -Si faquir. He is not a down-country
beggar," Kim went on severely, addressing the
stars. " He is the most holy of holy men. He is
above all castes. I am his chela'''
" Come here ! " said the flat thin voice behind
the curtain ; and Kim came, conscious that eyes
he could not sec were staring at him. One skinny
brown finger heavy with rings lay on the edge of
the cart, and the talk went this way :
" Who is that one *? "
" An exceeding holy one. He comes from far
off. He comes from Tibet."
"Where in Tibet ^"
" From behind the snows — from a very far
place. He knows the stars ; he makes horoscopes ;
he reads nativities. But he does not do this for
money. He does it for kindness and great charity.
I am his disciple. I am called also the Friend of
the Stars."
" Thou art no hillman."
"Ask him. He will tell thee I was sent to him
from the stars to show him an end to his pilgrim-
age."
" Humph ! Consider, brat, that I am an old
11 1
KIM
woman and not altogether a fool. Lamas I know
and to these I give reverence, but thou art no more
a lawful chela than this my finger is the pole of
this waggon. Thou art a casteless Hindu — a bold
and unblushing beggar, attached, belike, to the
Holy One for the sake of gain."
" Do we not all work for gain ? " Kim changed
his tone promptly to match that altered voice. " I
have heard " — this was a bow drawn at a venture
— "I have heard — "
" What hast thou heard ? " she snapped, rapping
with the finger.
" Nothing that I well remember, but some talk
in the bazars, which is doubtless a lie, that even
Rajahs — small Hill Rajahs — "
" But none the less of good Rajput blood."
"Assuredly of good blood. That these even
sell the more comely of their womenfolk for gain,
Down south they sell them — to zemindars and
such-all of Oudh."
If there be one thing in the world that the small
Hill Rajahs deny it is just this charge; but it hap-
pens to be one thing that the bazars believe, when
they discuss the mysterious slave-traffics of India.
The old lady explained to Kim, in a tense, indig-
nant whisper, precisely what manner and fashion
of malignant liar he was. Had Kim hinted this
when she was a girl, he would have been pom-
melled to death that same evening by an elephant.
This was perfectly true.
112
KIM
" Ahai ! I am only a beggar's brat, as the Eye
of Beauty has said," he wailed in extravagant
terror.
" Eye of Beauty, forsooth ! Who am I that
thou shouldst fling beggar-endearments at me "? "
And yet she laughed at the long-forgotten word.
" Forty years ago that might have been said, and
not without truth. Ay, thirty years ago. But it is
the fault of this gadding up and down Hind that
a king's widow must jostle all the scum of the land,
and be made a mock by beggars."
" Great Queen," said Kim promptly, for he heard
her shaking with indignation, " I am even what the
Great Queen says I am; but none the less is my
master holy. He has not yet heard the Great
Queen's order that — "
" Order "? I order a Holy One — a Teacher
of the Law — to come and speak to a woman?
Never ! "
" Pity my stupidity. I thought it was given as
an order — "
" It was not. It was a petition. Does this make
all clear?"
A silver coin clicked on the edge of the cart.
Kim took it and salaamed profoundly. The old
lady recognised that, as the eyes and the ears of the
lama, he was to be propitiated.
" I am but the Holy One's disciple. When he
has eaten perhaps he will come."
" Oh, villain and shameless rogue I " The jewelled
113
KIM
forefinger shook itself at him reprovingly; but he
could hear the old lady's chuckle.
"Nay, what is it?" he said, dropping into his
most caressing and confidential tone — the one, he
well knew, that few could resist. " Is — is there
any need of a son in thy family *? Speak freely, for
we priests — " That last was a direct plagiarism
from a faquir by the Taksali Gate.
" We priests I Thou art not yet old enough
to — " She checked the joke with another laugh.
" Believe me, now and again, we women, O priest,
think of other matters than sons. Moreover, my
daughter has borne her man-child."
" Two arrows in the quiver are better than one ;
and three are better still." Kim quoted the proverb
with a meditative cough, looking discreetly earth-
ward.
"True — oh, true. But perhaps that will come.
Certainly those down-country Brahmins are utterly
useless. I sent gifts and monies and gifts again to
them, and they prophesied."
"Ah," drawled Kim, with infinite contempt,
" they prophesied ! " A professional could have done
no better.
" And it was not till I remembered my own
Gods that my prayers were heard. I chose an
auspicious hour, and — perhaps thy Holy One has
heard of the Abbot of the Lung-Cho lamasery. It
was to him I put the matter, and behold in the due
114
KIM
time all came about as I desired. The Brahmin
in the house of the father of my daughter's son
has since said that it was through his prayers —
which is a little error that I will explain to him
when we reach our journey's end. And so after-
wards I go to Buddh Gaya, to make shraddha for
the father of my children."
" Thither go we."
" Doubly auspicious," chirruped the old lady.
" A second son at least ! "
" O Friend of all the World I " The lama had
waked, and, simply as a child bewildered in a strange
bed, called for Kim.
" I come ! I come, Holy One ! " He dashed to
the fire, where he found the lama already surrounded
by dishes of food, the hillmen visibly adoring him
and the Southerners looking sourly.
" Go back ! Withdraw I " Kim cried. " Do we
eat publicly like dogs *? " They finished the meal
in silence, each turned a little from the other, and
Kim topped it with a native-made cigarette.
" Have I not said an hundred times that the
South is a good land*? Here is a virtuous and
high-born widow of a Hill Rajah on pilgrimage, she
says, to Buddh Gaya. She it is sends us those
dishes ; and when thou art well rested she would
speak to thee."
" Is this also thy work *? " The lama dipped deep
into his snufF-gourd.
115
KIM
" Who else watched over thee since our wonder-
ful journey began *? " Kim's eyes danced in his
head as he blew the rank smoke through his
nostrils and stretched him on the dusty ground.
" Have I failed to oversee thy comforts, Holy
One "? "
" A blessing on thee." The lama inclined his
solemn head. " I have known many men in my so
long life, and disciples not a few. But to none
among men, if so be thou art woman-born, has my
heart gone out as it has to thee — thoughtful, wise,
and courteous, but something of a small imp."
" And I have never seen such a priest as thou."
Kim considered the benevolent yellow face wrinkle
by wrinkle. " It is less than three days since we
took road together, and it is as though it were a
hundred years."
" Perhaps in a former life it was permitted that
I should have rendered thee some service. May-
be"— he smiled — "I freed thee from a trap; or,
having caught thee on a hook in the days when I
was not enlightened, cast thee back into the river."
" Maybe," said Kim quietly. He had heard this
sort of speculation again and again, from the mouths
of many whom the English would not consider
imaginative. " Now, as regards that woman in the
bullock-cart, / think she needs a second son for her
daughter."
" That is no part of the Way," sighed the lama.
116
KIM
" But at least she is from the Hills. Ah, the Hills,
and the snow of the Hills I "
He rose and stalked to the cart. Kim would
have given his ears to come too, but the lama did
not invite him; and the few words he caught
were in an unknown tongue, for they spoke some
common speech of the mountains. The woman
seemed to ask questions which the lama turned
over in his mind before answering. Now and
again he heard the sing-song cadence of a Chinese
quotation. It was a strange picture that Kim
watched between drooped eyelids. The lama,
very straight and erect, the deep folds of his yellow
clothing slashed with black in the light of the parao
fires precisely as a knotted tree-trunk is slashed
with the shadow of the long sun, addressed a tinsel
and lacquered ruth which burned like a many-
coloured jewel in the same uncertain light. The
patterns on the gold-worked curtains ran up and
down, melting and reforming as the folds shook
and quivered to the night wind; and when the talk
grew more earnest the jewelled forefinger snapped
out little sparks of light between the embroideries.
Behind the cart was a wall of uncertain darkness
speckled with little flames and alive with half-caught
forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early
evening had settled down to one soothing hum
whose deepest note was the steady chumping of
the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose
117
KIM
highest was the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's
sitar. Most men had eaten and pulled deep at
their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in full
blast sound like bull-frogs.
At last the lama returned. A hillman walked
behind him with a wadded cotton-quilt and spread
it carefully by the fire.
" She deserves ten thousand grandchildren,"
thought Kim. " None the less, but for me, these
gifts would not have come."
"A virtuous woman — and a wise one." The
lama slackened off, joint by joint, like a slow
camel. "The world is full of charity to those
who follow the Way." He flung a fair half of
the quilt over Kim.
"And what said she*?" Kim rolled up in his
share of it.
" She asked me many questions and propounded
many problems — the most of which were idle tales
which she had heard from devil-serving priests
who pretend to follow the Way. Some I answered,
and some I said were foolish. Many wear the
Robe, but few keep the Way."
" True. That is true." Kim used the thought-
ful, conciliatory tone of those who wish to draw
confidences.
" But by her lights she is most right-minded.
She desires greatly that we should go with her to
118
KIM
Buddh Gaya; her road being ours, as I understand,
for many days' journey to the southward."
" And •? "
" Patience a little. To this I said that my
Search came before all things. She had heard
many foolish legends, but this great truth of my
River she had never heard. Such are the priests
of the lower hills! She knew the Abbot of
Lung-Cho, but she did not know of my River —
nor the tale of the Arrow."
"And?"
" I spoke therefore of the Search, and of the
Way, and of matters that were profitable ; she
desiring only that I should accompany her and
make prayer for a second son."
" Aha ! ' We women ' do not think of any-
thing save children," said Kim sleepily.
"Now, since our roads run together for awhile,
I do not see that we in any way depart from
our Search if so be we accompany her — at least
as far as — I have forgotten the name of the city."
" Ohe I " said Kim, turning and speaking in a
sharp whisper to one of the Ooryas a few yards
away. " Where is your master's house ? "
" A little behind Saharunpore, among the fruit-
gardens." He named the village.
" That was the place," said the lama. " So far,
at least, we can go with her."
119
KIM
" Flies go to carrion," said the Oorya, in an
abstracted voice.
" For the sick cow a crow; for the sick man a
Brahmin." Kim breathed the proverb impersonally
to the shadow-tops of the trees overhead.
The Oorya grunted and held his peace.
" So then we go with her, Holy One ? "
" Is there any reason against *? I can still step
aside and try all the rivers that the road over-
passes. She desires that I should come. She very
greatly desires it."
Kim stifled a laugh in the quilt. When once
that imperious old lady had recovered from her
natural awe of a lama he thought it probable that
she would be worth listening to.
He was nearly asleep when the lama suddenly
quoted a proverb: "The husbands of the talka-
tive have a great reward hereafter." Then Kim
heard him snuff thrice, and dozed off, still laughing.
The diamond-bright dawn woke men and crows
and bullocks together. Kim sat up and yawned,
shook himself, and thrilled with delight. This
was seeing the world in real truth; this was life as
he would have it — bustling and shouting, the
buckling of belts, and beating of bullocks and
creaking of wheels, lighting of fires and cooking
of food, and new sights at every turn of the
approving eye. The morning mist swept off in
a whorl of silver, the parrots shot away to some
120
KIM
distant river in shrieking green hosts: all the
well-wheels within earshot went to work. India
was awake, and Kim was in the middle of it,
more awake and more excited than any one,
chewing on a twig that he would presently use
as a tooth-brush; for he borrowed right- and
left-handedly from all the customs of the country
he knew and loved. There was no need to worry
about food — no need to spend a cowrie at the
crowded stalls. He was the disciple of a holy
man annexed by a strong-willed old lady. All
things would be prepared for them, and when they
were respectfully invited so to do they would sit
and eat. For the rest, — Kim giggled here as
he cleaned his teeth, — his hostess would rather
heighten the enjoyment of the road. He inspected
her bullocks critically, as they came up grunting
and blowing under the yokes. If they went
too fast — it was not likely — there would be a
pleasant seat for himself along the pole ; the lama
would sit beside the driver. The escort, of course,
would walk. The old lady, equally of course,
would talk a great deal, and by what he had
heard that conversation would not lack salt. She
was already ordering, haranguing, rebuking, and,
it must be said, cursing her servants for delays.
" Get her her pipe. In the name of the Gods,
get her her pipe and stop her ill-omened mouth,"
cried an Oorya, tying up his shapeless bundles of
121
KIM
bedding. " She and the parrots are aUke. They
screech in the dawn."
" The lead-bullocks I Hai ! Look to the lead-
bullocks ! " They were backing and wheeling as
a grain-cart's axle caught them by the horns.
" Son of an owl, where dost thou go ? " This to
the grinning carter.
"Ail Yai I Yai ! That within there is the
Oueen of Delhi going to pray for a son," the
man called back over his high load. " Room for
the Queen of Delhi and her prime minister the
gray monkey climbing up his own sword ! "
Another cart loaded with bark for a down-country
tannery followed close behind, and its driver added
a few compliments as the rz//^-bullocks backed
and backed again.
From behind the shaking curtains came one
volley of invective. It did not last long, but in
kind and quality, in blistering, biting appropriate-
ness, it was beyond anything that even Kim had
heard. He could see the carter's bare chest col-
lapse with amazement, as the man salaamed rever-
ently to the voice, leaped from the pole, and helped
the escort haul their volcano on to the main road.
Here the voice told him truthfully what sort of
wife he had wedded, and what she was doing in
his absence.
" Oh, shahash ! " murmured Kim, unable to
contain himself, as the man slunk away.
122
KIM
" Well done, indeed ! It is a shame and a
scandal that a poor woman may not go to make
prayer to her gods except she be jostled and in-
sulted by all the refuse of Hindustan — that she
must eat gdli (abuse) as men eat ghi. But I have
yet a wag left to my tongue — a word or two well
spoken that serves the occasion. And still am I
without my tobacco ! Who is the one-eyed and
luckless son of shame that has not yet prepared
my pipe % "
It was hastily thrust in by a hillman, and a
trickle of thick smoke from each corner of the
curtains showed that peace was restored.
If Kim had walked proudly the day before,
disciple of a holy man, to-day he paced with ten-
fold pride in the train of a semi-royal procession,
with a recognised place under the patronage of an
old lady of charming manners and infinite re-
source. The escort, their heads tied up native
fashion, fell in on either side the cart, shuffling
enormous clouds of dust.
The lama and Kim walked a little to one side ;
Kim chewing his stick of sugar-cane, and mak-
ing way for no one under the status of a priest.
They could hear the old lady's tongue clack as
steadily as a rice-husker. She bade the escort tell
her what was going on on the road ; and so soon
as they were clear of the parao she flung back the
curtains and peered out, her veil a third across her
123
KIM
face. Her men did not eye her directly when she
addressed them, and thus the proprieties were
more or less observed.
A dark, sallowish District Superintendent of
Police, faultlessly uniformed, an Englishman,
trotted by on a tired horse, and, seeing from her
retinue what manner of person she was, chaffed
her.
" O mother," he cried, " do they do this in the
zenanas ? Suppose an Englishman came by and
saw that thou hadst no nose % "
"What'?" she shrilled back. "Thy own mother
has no nose*? Why say so, then, on the open
road ? "
It was a fair counter. The Englishman threw
up his hand with the gesture of a man hit at
sword-play. She laughed and nodded.
" Is this a face to tempt virtue aside ? " She
withdrew all her veil and stared at him.
It was by no means lovely, but as the man
gathered up his reins he called it a Moon of Para-
dise, a Disturber of Integrity, and a few other fan-
tastic epithets which doubled her up with mirth.
" That is a nut-cut (rogue)," she said. " All po-
lice-constables are nut-cuts; but the police-wallahs
are the worst. Hai, my son, thou hast never
learned all that since thou camest from Belait
(Europe). Who suckled thee % "
" A pahareen — a hi 11 woman of Dalhousie, my
124
KIM
mother. Keep thy beauty under a shade — O Dis-
penser of Delights," and he was gone.
" These be the sort " — she took a fine judicial
tone, and stuffed her mouth with pan — "These be
the sort to oversee justice. They know the land
and the customs of the land. The others, all new
from Europe, suckled by white womer^and learn-
ing our tongues from books, are worse than the
pestilence. They do harm to Kings." Then she
told a long, long tale to the world at large, of
an ignorant young policeman who had disturbed
some small Hill Rajah, a ninth cousin of her own,
in the matter of a trivial land-case, winding up
with a quotation from a work by no means devo-
tional.
Then her mood changed, and she bade one of
the escort ask whether the lama would walk along-
side and discuss matters of religion. So Kim
dropped back into the dust and returned to his
sugar-cane. For an hour or more the lama's tam-
o'-shanter showed like a moon through the haze ;
and, from all he heard, Kim gathered that the
old woman wept. One of the Ooryas half apolo-
gised for his rudeness overnight, saying that he
had never known his mistress of so bland a tem-
per, and he ascribed it to the presence of the
strange priest. Personally, he believed in Brah-
mins, though, like all natives, he was acutely
aware of their cunning and their greed. Still,
125
KIM
when Brahmins but irritated with begging de-
mands the mother of his master's wife, and when
she sent them away so angry that they cursed the
whole retinue (which was the real reason of the
second off-side bullock going lame, and of the pole
breaking the night before), he was prepared to accept
any priest ©f any other denomination in or out of In-
dia. To this Kim assented with wise nods, and bade
the Oorya observe that the lama took no money,
and that the cost of his and Kim's food would be
repaid a hundred times in the good luck that
would attend the caravan henceforward. He also
told stories of Lahore city, and sang a song or two
which made the escort laugh. As a town-mouse
well acquainted with the latest songs by the
most fashionable composers, — they are women
for the most part, — Kim had a distinct advan-
tage over men from a little fruit-village behind
Saharunpore, but he let that advantage be in-
ferred.
At noon they turned aside to eat, and the meal
was good, plentiful, and well-served on plates of
clean leaves, in decency, out of drift of the dust.
They gave the scraps to certain beggars, that all
requirements might be fulfilled, and sat down to
a long, luxurious smoke. The old lady had
retreated behind her curtains, but mixed most
freely in the talk, her servants arguing with and
contradicting her as servants do throughout the
126
KIM
East. She compared the cool and the pines of the
Kangra and Kulu hills with the dust and the
mangoes of the South; she told a tale of some old
local Gods at the edge of her husband's territory ;
she roundly abused the tobacco which she was
then smoking, reviled all Brahmins, and speculated
without reserve on the coming of many grandsons.
127
Here come I to my own again —
Fed, forgiven, and known again —
Claimed by bone of my bone again.
And sib to flesh of my flesh !
The fatted calf is dressed for me,
But the husks have greater zest for me . . .
I think my pigs will be best for me.
So I'm off to the styes afresh.
The Prodigal Son.
Once more the lazy, string-tied, shuffling proces-
sion got under way, and she slept till they reached
the next halting-stage. It was a very short march,
and time lacked an hour to sundown, so Kim cast
about for means of amusement.
" But why not sit and rest ? " said one of the es-
cort. " Only the devils and the English walk to
and fro without reason,"
" Never make friends with the Devil, a monkey,
or a boy. No man knows what they will do next,"
said his fellow.
Kim turned a scornful back — he did not want
to hear the old story how the Devil played with the
128
KIM
boys and repented of it — and walked idly across
country.
The lama strode after him. All that day, when-
ever they passed a stream, he had turned aside to
look at it, but in no case had he received any warn-
ing that he had found his River. Insensibly too
the comfort of speaking to some one in a reason-
able tongue, and of being properly considered and
respected as her spiritual adviser by a well-born
woman, had weaned his thoughts a little from the
Search. And further, he was prepared to spend se-
rene years in his quest ; having nothing of the white
man's impatience, but a great faith.
" Where goest thou *? " he called after Kim.
" No whither — it was a small march, and all
this " — Kim waved his hands abroad — " is new to
me."
" She is beyond question a wise and a discerning
woman. But it is hard to meditate when — "
"All women are thus." Kim spoke as might
have Solomon.
" Before the lamasery was a broad platform," the
lama muttered, looping up the well-worn rosary,
" of stone. On that I have left the marks of my
feet — pacing to and fro with these."
He clicked the beads, and began the " Om mane
pudme hum " of his devotion ; grateful for the cool,
the quiet, and the absence of dust.
One thing after another drew Kim's idle eye
129
KIM
across the plain. There was no purpose in his
wanderings, except that the build of the huts near
by seemed new, and he wished to investigate.
They came out on a broad tract of grazing-
ground, brown and purple in the afternoon light,
with a heavy clump of mangoes in the centre. It
struck Kim as curious that no shrine stood in so
eligible a spot : the boy was observing as any priest
for these things. Far across the plain walked side
by side four men, made small by the distance. He
looked intently under his curved palms and caught
the sheen of brass.
" Soldiers. White soldiers I " said he. " Let us
see."
" It is always soldiers when thou and I go out
alone together. But I have never seen the white
soldiers."
" They do no harm except when they are drunk.
Keep behind this tree."
They stepped behind the thick trunks in the
cool dark of the mango-tope. Two little figures
halted; the other two came forward uncertainly.
They were the advance-party of a regiment on
the march, sent out, as usual, to mark the camp.
They bore five-foot sticks with fluttering flags,
and called to each other as they spread over the
flat earth.
At last they entered the mango-grove, walking
heavily.
130
!
KIM
" It's here or hereabouts — officers' tents under
the trees, I take it, an' the rest of us can stay out-
side. Have they marked out for the baggage-
waggons behind *? "
They cried again to their comrades in the dis-
tance, and the rough answer came back faint and
mellowed.
" Shove the flag in here, then," said one.
" What do they prepare *? " said the lama, won-
der-struck. " This is a great and terrible world.
What is the device on the flag*? "
A soldier thrust a stave within a few feet of
them, grunted discontentedly, pulled it up again,
conferred with his companion, who looked up
and down the shaded case of greenery, and re-
turned it.
Kim stared with all his eyes, his breath coming
short and sharp between his teeth. The soldiers
stamped off into the sunshine.
" O Holy One," he gasped, " my horoscope !
The drawing in the dust by the priest at Umballa!
Remember what he said. First come two — /crashes
— to make all things ready — in a dark place, as it
is always at the beginning of a vision."
" But this is not vision," said the lama. " It is
the world's Illusion, and no more."
" And after them comes the Bull — the Red Bull
on the green field. Look ! It is he ! "
He pointed to the flag that was snap-snapping
1^1
KIM
in the evening breeze not ten feet away. It was
no more than an ordinary camp marking-flag;
but the regiment, always punctilious in matters
of millinery, had charged it with the regimental
device, the Red Bull, which is the crest of the
Mavericks — the great Red Bull on a background
of Irish green.
" I see, and now I remember," said the lama.
" Certainly it is thy Bull. Certainly, also, the two
men came to make all ready."
" They are soldiers — white soldiers. What said
the priest ? ' The sign over against the Bull is the
sign of War and armed men.' Holy One, this
thing touches my Search."
" True. It is true." The lama stared fixedly
at the device that flamed like a ruby in the dusk.
"The priest at Umballa said that thine was the
sign of War."
" What is to do now *? "
" Wait. Let us wait."
" Even now the darkness clears," said Kim. It
was only natural that the descending sun should at
last strike through the tree-trunks, across the grove,
filling it with mealy gold light for a few minutes ;
but to Kim it was crown of the Umballa Brahmin's
prophecy.
" Hark ! " said the lama. " One beats a drum —
far off ! "
At first the sound, carrying diluted through the
132
KIM
still air, resembled the beating of an artery in the
head. Soon a sharpness was added.
"Ah ! The music," Kim explained. He knew
the sound of a regimental band, but it amazed the
lama.
At the far end of the plain a heavy, dusty
column crawled in sight. Then the wind brought
the tune : —
JVe crave your condescension
To tell you what we know
Of marching in the Mulligan Guards
To Sligo Port below.
Here broke in the shrill-tongued fifes : —
We shouldered arms.
We marched — we marched away
From Phcenix Park
We marched to Dublin Bay.
The drums and the ffes.
Oh, sweetly they did play.
As we marched — marched — marched — with the Mulligan
Guards !
It was the band of the Mavericks playing the
regiment to camp ; for the men were route-march-
ing with their baggage. The rippling column
swung into the level — carts behind it — divided left
and right, ran about like an ant-hill, and . . .
" But this is sorcery I " said the lama.
The plain dotted itself with tents that seemed
KIM
to rise, all spread, from the carts. Another rush
of men invaded the grove, pitched a huge tent in
silence, ran up yet eight or nine more by the side
of it, unearthed cooking-pots, pans, and bundles,
which were taken possession of by a crowd of
native servants ; and behold the mango-tope turned
into an orderly town as they watched I
" Let us go," said the lama, sinking back afraid,
as the fires twinkled and white officers with jingling
swords stalked into the mess-tent.
" Stand back in the shadow. No one can see
beyond the light of a fire," said Kim, his eyes still
on the flag. He had never before watched the
routine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in
thirty minutes.
" Look ! look I look ! " clucked the lama.
" Yonder comes a priest."
It was Bennett, the Church of England chaplain
of the regiment, limping in dusty black. One of
his flock had made some rude remarks about the
chaplain's mettle; and to abash him Bennett had
marched step by step with the men that day. The
black dress, gold cross on the watch-chain, the
hairless face, and the soft, black wideawake hat
would have marked him as a holy man anywhere
in all India. He dropped into a camp-chair by
the door of the mess-tent and slid off his boots.
Three or four officers gathered round him, laughing
and joking over his exploit.
KIM
"The talk of white men is wholly lacking in
dignity," said the lama, who judged only by tone.
" But I have considered the countenance of that
priest, and I think he is learned. Is it likely that
he will understand our talk '^ I would talk to him
of my Search."
"Never speak to a white man till he is fed,"
said Kim, quoting a well-known proverb. "They
will eat now, and — and I do not think they are
good to beg from. Let us go back to the resting-
place. After we have eaten we will come again.
It certainly was a Red Bull — my Red Bull."
They were both noticeably absent-minded when
the old lady's retinue set their meal before them;
so none broke their reserve, for it is not lucky to
annoy guests.
" Now," said Kim, picking his teeth, " we will
return to that place ; but thou, O Holy One, must
wait a little way off, because thy feet are heavier
than mine and I am anxious to see more of that
Red Bull."
" But how canst thou understand the talk ?
Walk slowly. The road is dark," the lama replied
uneasily.
Kim put the question aside. " I marked a place
near to the trees," said he, " where thou canst sit
till I call. Nay," as the lama made some sort of
protest, " remember this is my Search — the Search
for my Red Bull. The sign in the Stars was not
135
KIM
for thee. I know a little of the customs of white
soldiers, and I always desire to see some new
things."
" What dost thou not know of this world ? "
The lama squatted obediently in a little hollow of
the ground not a hundred yards from the hump
of the mango-trees dark against the star-powdered
sky.
" Stay till I call." Kim flitted into the dusk.
He knew that in all probability there would be
sentries round the camp, and smiled to himself as
he heard the thick boots of one. A boy who can
dodge over the roofs of Lahore city on a moon-
light night, using every little patch and corner of
darkness to discomfit his pursuer, is not likely
to be checked by a line of well-trained soldiers.
He paid them the compliment of crawling be-
tween a couple, and, running and halting, crouch-
ing and dropping flat, worked his way towards the
lighted mess-tent, where, close pressed behind the
mango-tree, he waited till some chance word should
give him a returnable lead.
The one thing now in his mind was further
information as to the Red Bull. For aught he
knew, and Kim's limitations were as curious and
sudden as his expansions, the men, the nine
hundred thorough devils of his father's prophecy,
might pray to the beast after dark, as Hindus
pray to the Holy Cow. That at least would be
136
KIM
entirely right and logical, and the padre with the
gold cross would be therefore the man to consult
in the matter. On the other hand, remembering
sober-faced padres whom he had avoided in Lahore
city, the priest might be an inquisitive nuisance
who would bid him learn. But had it not been
proven at Umballa that his sign in the high heavens
portended war and armed men? Was he not
the Friend of the Stars as well as of all the world,
crammed to the teeth with dreadful secrets?
Lastly, — and firstly as the undercurrent of all his
quick thoughts, — this adventure, though he did
not know the English word, was a stupendous
lark — a delightful continuation of his old flights
across the housetops, as well as the fulfilment of
sublime prophecy. He lay belly-flat and wriggled
towards the mess-tent door, a hand on the amulet
round his neck.
It was as he suspected. The Sahibs prayed to
their God ; for in the centre of the mess-table — its
sole ornament when they were on the line of march
— stood a golden bull fashioned from old-time loot
of the Summer Palace at Pekin — a red-gold bull
with lowered head, ramping upon a field of Irish
green. To him the Sahibs held out their glasses
and cried aloud confusedly.
Now the Reverend Arthur Bennett always left
mess after that toast, and being rather tired by
his march his movements were more abrupt than
137
KIM
usual. Kim, with slightly raised head, was still
staring at his totem on the table, when the chaplain
stepped on his right shoulder-blade. Kim flinched
under the leather, and, rolling sideways, brought
down the chaplain, who, ever a man of action,
caught him by the throat and nearly choked the
life out of him. Kim then kicked him desperately
in the stomach. Mr. Bennett gasped and doubled
up but without relaxing his grip, rolled over
again, and silently hauled Kim to his own tent. The
Mavericks were incurable practical jokers ; and it
occurred to the Englishman that silence was best
till he had made complete inquiry.
"Why, it's a boy! " he said, as he drew his prize
under the light of the tent-pole lantern, then shak-
ing him severely cried : "What were you doing?
You're a thief Choor ? Mallum ? " His Hindu-
stanee was very limited, and the ruffled and dis-
gusted Kim intended to keep to the character laid
down for him. As he recovered his breath he
was inventing a beautifully plausible tale of his
relations to some mess-scullion, and at the same
time keeping a keen eye on and a little under
the chaplain's left arm-pit. The chance came ;
he ducked for the doorway, but a long arm shot
out and clutched at his neck, snapping the amulet
string and closing on the amulet.
"Give it me. O give it me. Is it lost? Give
me the papers."
138
KIM
The words were In English — the tinny, saw-
cut English of the native-bred, and the chaplain
jumped.
"A scapular," said he, opening his hand. "No,
some sort of heathen charm. Why — why, do you
speak English *? Little boys who steal are beaten.
You know that ? "
"I do not — I did not steal." Kim danced in
agony like a terrier at a lifted stick. " O give it
me. It is my charm. Do not thieve it from me."
The chaplain took no heed, but, going to the
tent door, called aloud. A fattish, clean-shaven
man appeared.
"I want your advice, Father Victor," said Bennett.
" I found this boy in the dark outside the mess-tent.
Ordinarily, I should have chastised him and let
him go, because I believe him to be a thief But
it seems he talks English, and he attaches some sort
of value to a charm round his neck. I thought
perhaps you might help me."
Between himself and the Roman Catholic chap-
lain of the Irish contingent lay, as Bennett believed,
an unbridgeable gulf, but it was noticeable that
whenever the Church of England dealt with a
human problem she was very likely to call in the
Church of Rome. Bennett's official abhorrence of
the Scarlet Woman and all her ways was only
equalled by his private respect for Father Victor.
" A thief talking English Is It *? Let's look at
139
KIM
his charm. No, it is not a scapular, Bennett." He
held out his hand.
" But have we any right to open it "? A sound
whipping — "
"I did w/ thieve," protested Kim. "You have
hit me kicks all over my body. Now give me my
charm and I will go away."
"Not quite so fast; we'll look first," said Father
Victor, leisurely rolling out poor Kimball O'Hara's
ne varietur parchment, his clearance-certificate,
and Kim's baptismal certificate. On this last
O'Hara — with some confused idea that he was
doing wonders for his son — had scrawled scores of
times : " Look after the hoy. Please look after the
boy" — signing his name and regimental number
in full.
" Powers of Darkness below I " said Father
Victor, passing all over to Mr. Bennett. " Do you
know what these things are *? "
" Yes," said Kim. " They are mine, and I
want to go away."
" I do not quite understand," said Mr. Bennett.
" He probably brought them on purpose. It may
be a begging trick of some kind."
" I never saw a beggar less anxious to stay with
his company, then. There's the makings of a
gay mystery here. Ye believe in Providence,
Bennett?"
" I hope so."
140
KIM
" Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to the
same thing. Powers of Darkness ! Kimball
O'Hara ! And his son I But then he's a native,
and I saw Kimball married myself to Annie
Shott. How long have you had these things, boy V"
"Ever since I was a little baby." Father Victor
stepped forward quickly and opened the front of
Kim's upper garment. " You see, Bennett, he's
not very black. What's your name ? "
" Kim."
"Or Kimball?"
" Perhaps. Will you let me go away ? "
" What else ? "
" They call me Kim Rishti ke. That is Kim of
the Rishti."
" What is that— 'Rishti ' ? "
" Eye-Tisht'i — that was the regiment — my
father's."
" Irish, oh I see."
" Yess. That was how my father told me. My
father, he has lived."
" Has lived where ? "
" Has lived. Of course he is dead — gone-out."
" Oh. That's your abrupt way of putting it,
is it?"
Bennett interrupted. " It is possible I have
done the boy an injustice. He is certainly white,
though evidently neglected. I am sure I must
have bruised him. I do not think spirits — "
141
KIM
" Get him a glass of sherry, then, and let him
squat on the cot. Now, Kim," continued Father
Victor, " no one is going to hurt you. Drink that
down and tell us about yourself. The truth, if
you've no objection."
Kim coughed a little as he put down the empty
glass, and considered. This seemed a time for
caution and fancy. Small boys who prowl about
camps are generally turned out after a whipping.
But he had received no stripes; the amulet was
evidently working in his favour, and it looked as
though the Umballa horoscope and the icw words
that he could remember of his father's maunder-
ings fitted in most miraculously. Else why did
the fat padre seem so impressed, and why the glass
of hot yellow wine from the lean one *?
" My father, he is dead in Lahore city since
I was very little. The woman, she kept kabarri
shop near where the hire-carriages are." Kim be-
gan with a plunge, not quite sure how far the
truth would serve him.
'* Your mother ? "
" No " — with a gesture of disgust. " She went
out when I was born. My father, he got these
papers from the Jadoo-Gher — what do you call
that *? " (Bennett nodded) " because he was in —
good-standing. What do you call that ? " (again
Bennett nodded). " My father told me that. He
said too, and also the Brahmin who made the
142
KIM
drawing in the dust at Umballa two days ago, he
said, that I shall find a Red Bull on a green field
and that the Bull shall help me."
" A phenomenal little liar," muttered Bennett.
" Powers of Darkness below, what a country I "
murmured Father Victor. " Go on, Kim."
"I did w/ thieve. Besides, I am just now dis-
ciple of a very holy man. He is sitting outside.
We saw two men come with flags, making the
place ready. That is always so in a dream, or on
account of a — a — prophecy. So I knew it was
come true. I saw the Red Bull on the green
field, and my father he said : ' Nine hundred
pukka devils and the Colonel riding on a horse
will look after you when you find the Red Bull ! '
I did not know what to do when I saw the Bull,
but I went away and I came again when it was
dark. I wanted to see the Bull again, and I saw
the Bull again with the — the Sahibs praying to it.
I think the Bull shall help me. The holy man
said so too. He is sitting outside. Will you
hurt him, if I call him a shout now ? He is very
holy. He can witness to all the things I say, and
he knows I am not a thief"
" ' Officers praying to a bull ! ' What in the
world do you make of that ? " said Bennett.
" ' Disciple of a holy man I ' Is the boy mad *? "
" It's O'Hara's boy, sure enough. O'Hara's
boy leagued with all the Powers of Darkness. It's
H3
KIM
verv' much what his father would have done — if
he was drunk. We'd better invite the holy man.
He may know something."
" He does not know anything," said Kim. " I
will show you him if you come. He is my mas-
ter. Then afterwards we can go."
" Powers of Darkness I " was all that Father
Victor could say, as Bennett marched off, with a
firm hand on Kim's shoulder.
They found the lama where he had dropped.
"The Search is at an end for me," shouted Kim
in the vernacular. " I have found the Bull, but
God knows what comes next. They will not
hurt you. Come to the fat priest's tent with this
thin man and see the end. It is all new, and they
cannot talk Hindi. They are only uncurried
donkeys."
•' Then it is not well to make a jest of their
ignorance," the lama returned. " I am glad if
thou art rejoiced, chelae
Dignified and unsuspicious, he strode into the
little tent, saluted the Churches as a Churchman,
and sat down by the open charcoal brazier. The
yellow lining of the tent reflected in the lamp-light
made his face red-gold.
Bennett looked at him with the triple-ringed
uninterest of the creed that lumps nine-tenths of
the world under the title of " heathen."
" And what was the end of the Search '? What
144
KIM
gift has the Red Bull brought ? " The lama ad-
dressed himself to Kim.
" He says, ' What are you going to do ? ' "
Bennett was staring uneasily at Father Victor, and
Kim, for his own ends, took upon himself the
office of interpreter.
" I do not see what concern this faquir has with
the boy, who is probably his dupe or his confed-
erate," Bennett began. " We cannot allow an
English boy — Assuming that he is the son of a
Mason, the sooner he goes to the Masonic Orphan-
age the better."
" Ah I That's your opinion as Secretary to the
Regimental Lodge," said Father Victor; " but we
might as well tell the old man what we are going
to do. He doesn't look like a villain."
" My experience is that one can never fathom
the Oriental mind. Now, Kimball, I wish you to
tell this man what I say — word for word."
Kim gathered the import of the next few sen-
tences and began thus :
" Holy One, the thin fool who looks like a camel
says that I am the son of a Sahib."
" But how % "
" Oh, it is true. I knew it since my birth, but
he could only find it out by reading the amulet
from my neck and reading all the papers. He
thinks that once a Sahib is always a Sahib, and
between the two of them they purpose to keep me
KIM
in this regiment or to send me to a madrissah (a
school). It has happened before. I have always
avoided it. The fat fool is of one mind and the
camel-like one of another. But that is no odds. I
may spend one night here and perhaps the next.
It has happened before. Then I will run away
and return to thee."
"But tell them that thou art my chela. Tell
them how thou didst come to me when I was faint
and bewildered. Tell them of our Search, and
they will surely let thee go now."
" I have already told them. They laugh, and
they talk of the police."
" What are you saying ? " asked Mr. Bennett.
" Oah. He only says that if you do not let me
go it will stop him in his business — his ur-gent
private af-fairs." This last was a reminiscence of
some talk with a Eurasian clerk in the Canal De-
partment, but it only drew a smile, which nettled
him. " And if you did know what his business
was you would not be in such a beastly hurry to
interfere."
"What is it then?" said Father Victor, not
without feeling, as he watched the lama's face.
" There is a River in this country which he
wishes to find so verree much. It was put out by
an Arrow which — " Kim tapped his foot impa-
tiently as he translated in his own mind from the
vernacular to his clumsy English. " Oah, it was
146
KIM
made by our Lord God Buddha you know, and if
you wash there you are washed away from all your
sins and made as white as cotton-wool." (Kim
had heard mission-talk in his time.) " I am his
disciple, and we must find that River. It is so
verree valuable to us."
"Say that again," said Bennett. Kim obeyed,
with amplifications.
" But this is gross blasphemy," cried the Church
of England.
" Tck ! Tck I " said Father Victor sympathet-
ically. " I'd give a good deal to be able to talk
the vernacular. A river that washes away sin 1
And how long have you two been looking for it*?"
" Oh, many days. Now we wish to go away
and look for it again. It is not here, you see."
" I see," said Father Victor gravely. " But he
can't go on in that old man's company. It would
be different, Kim, if you were not a soldier's son.
Tell him that the regiment will take care of you
and make you as good a man as your — as good a
man as can be. Tell him that if he believes in
miracles he must believe that — "
" There is no need to play on his credulity,"
Bennett interrupted.
" I'm doing no such thing. He must believe
that the boy's coming here — to his own regiment
— in search of his Red Bull is in the nature of a
miracle. Consider the chances against it, Bennett.
H7
KIM
This one boy in all India, and our regiment of all
others on the line o' march for him to meet with !
It's predestined on the face of it. Yes, tell him
it's Kismet. Kismet^ malliun ? (Do you under-
stand V) "
He turned towards the lama, to whom he might
as well have talked of Mesopotamia,
" They say," — the old man's eye lighted at
Kim's speech, — " they say that the meaning of
my horoscope is now accomplished, and that being
led back — though as thou knowest I went out of
curiosity — to these people and their Red Bull I
must needs go to a madrissah and be turned into a
Sahib. Now I make pretence of agreement, for
at the worst it will be but a few meals eaten away
from thee. Then I will slip away and follow down
the road to Saharunpore. Therefore, Holy One,
keep with that Kulu woman — on no account stray
far from her cart till I come again. Past question,
my sign is of War and of armed men. See how
they have given me wine to drink and set me upon
a bed of honour I My father must have been some
great person. So if they raise me to honour among
them, good. If not, good again. However it
goes, I will run back to thee when I am tired. But
stay with the Rajputni, or I shall miss thy feet. . . .
Oah yess," said the boy, " I have told him every-
thing you tell me to say."
" And I cannot see any need why he should
148
KIM
wait," said Bennett, feeling in his trouser-pocket.
"We can investigate the details later — and I will
give him a ru — "
" Give him time. Maybe he's fond of the lad,"
said Father Victor, half-arresting the clergyman's
motion.
The lama dragged forth his rosary and pulled
his huge hat-brim over his eyes.
" What can he want now ? "
" He says " — Kim put up one hand. " He
says: Be quiett. He wants to speak to me by
himself You see you do not know one little word
of what he says, and I think if you talk he will
perhaps give you very bad curses. When he takes
those beads like that, you see he always wants
to be quiett."
The two Englishmen sat overwhelmed, but
there was a look in Bennett's eye that promised
ill for Kim when he should be relaxed to the reli-
gious arm.
"A Sahib and the son of a Sahib — " The
lama's voice was harsh with pain. " But no white
man knows the land and the customs of the land
as thou knowest. How comes it this is true *? "
" What matter, Holy One : but remember it
is only for a night or two. Remember, I can
change swiftly. It will all be as it was when I
first spoke to thee under Zam-Zammah the great
gun — "
149
KIM
"As a boy in the dress of white men — when I
first went to the Wonder House. And a second
time thou wast a Hindu. What shall the third
incarnation be*?" He chuckled drearily. "Ah,
chela^ thou hast done a wrong to an old man because
my heart went out to thee."
"And mine to thee. But how could I know
that the Red Bull would bring me to this
business*? "
The lama covered his face afresh, and nervously
rattled the rosary. Kim squatted beside him and
laid hold upon a fold of his clothing.
" Now it is understood that the boy is a Sahib ? "
he went on in a muffled tone. " Such a Sahib
as was he who kept the images in the Wonder
House." The lama's experience of white men
was limited. He seemed to be repeating a lesson.
" So then it is not seemly that he should do other
than as the Sahibs do. He must go back to his
own people."
" For a day and a night and a day," Kim
pleaded.
"No, ye don't I" Father Victor saw Kim
edging towards the door, and interposed a strong
leg.
" I do not understand the customs of white
men. The Priest of the Images in the Wonder
House in Lahore was more courteous than the
thin one here. This boy will be taken from me.
150
KIM
They will make a Sahib of my disciple *? Woe to
me, how shall I find my River*? Have they no
disciples ? Ask."
" He says he is very sorry that he cannot find
the River now any more. He says, Why have you
no disciples, and stop bothering him. He wants
to be washed of his sins,"
Neither Bennett nor Father Victor found any
answer ready.
Said Kim in English, distressed for the lama's
agony : " I think if you will let me go now we
will walk away quietly and not steal. We will
look for that River like before I was caught. I wish
I did not come here to find the Red Bull and all
that sort of thing. I do not want it."
" It's the very best day's work you ever did for
yourself, young man," said Bennett.
" Good heavens, I don't know how to console
him," said Father Victor, watching the lama
intently. " He can't take the boy away with him,
and yet he's a good man — I'm sure he's a good
man. Bennett, if you give him that rupee he'll
curse you root and branch ! "
They listened to each other's breathing — three
— ^five full minutes. Then the lama raised his
head, and looked forth across them into space and
emptiness.
"And I am a follower of the Way," he said
bitterly. " The sin is mine and the punishment is
KIM
mine. I made believe to myself — for now I see
it was but make-belief — that thou wast sent to me
to aid in the Search. So my heart went out to
thee for thy charity and thy courtesy and the
wisdom of thy little years. But those who follow
the Way must permit not the fire of any desire
or attachment, for that is all illusion. As says . . ."
He quoted an old, old Chinese text, backed it with
another, and reinforced these with a third. " I
stepped aside from the Way, my chela. It was no
fault of thine. I delighted in the sight of life, the
new people upon the roads, and in thy joy at seeing
these things. I was pleased with thee who should
have considered my Search and my Search alone.
Now I am sorrowful because thou art taken away
and my River is far from me. It is the Law which
I have broken I "
" Powers of Darkness belowl " said Father Victor,
who, wise in the confessional, heard the pain in
every sentence.
" I see now that the sign of the Red Bull was a
sign for me as well as for thee. All Desire is red
— and evil. I will do penance and find my River
alone."
"At least go back to the Kulu woman," said
Kim, "otherwise thou wilt be lost upon the
roads. She will feed thee till I run back to thee."
The lama waved a hand to show that the matter
was finally settled in his mind.
1C2
KIM
"Now," — his tone altered as he turned to Kim,
— "what will they do with theeV At least I may,
acquiring merit, wipe out past ill."
" Make me a Sahib — so they think. The day
after to-morrow I return. Do not grieve."
"Of what sort'^ Such an one as this or that
man*?" He pointed to Father Victor. " Such an
one as those I saw this evening — men wearing
swords and stamping heavily ? "
" Maybe."
" That is not well. These men follow desire and
come to emptiness. Thou must not be of their sort."
" The Umballa priest said that my Star was
War," Kim interjected. " I will ask these fools —
but there is truly no need. I will run away this
night, for all I wanted to see the new things."
Kim put two or three questions in English to
Father Victor, translating the replies to the lama.
Then : " He says, ' You take him from me and
you cannot say what you will make him.' He says,
' Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing to
make a child. ' "
" You will be sent to a school. Later on, we
shall see. Kimball, I suppose you'd like to be a
soldier?"
"G<?m/>^^ (white-folk). No-ah I No-ahl" Kim
shook his head violently. There was nothing in his
composition to which drill and routine appealed.
" I will not be a soldier."
KIM
" You will be what you're told to be," said
Bennett ; " and you should be grateful that we're
going to help you."
Kim smiled compassionately. If these men lay
under the delusion that he would do anything that
he did not fancy, so much the better.
Another long silence followed. Bennett fidgeted
with impatience, and suggested calling a sentry to
evict tht fciqi/fr.
" Do they give or sell learning among the Sa-
hibs ? Ask them," said the lama, and Kim in-
terpreted.
" They say that money is paid to the teacher —
but that money the regiment will give. . . . What
need ? It is only for a night."
" And — the more money is paid the better
learning is given '? " The lama disregarded Kim's
plans for an early flight. " It is no wrong to pay
for learning ; to help the ignorant to wisdom is al-
ways a merit." The rosary clicked furiously as an
abacus. Then he faced his oppressors.
" Ask them for how much money do they give
a wise and suitable teaching ? and in what city is
that teaching given ? "
" Well," said Father Victor in English, when
Kim had translated, " that depends. The regi-
ment would pay for you all the time you are at
the Military Orphanage ; or you might go on the
Punjab Masonic Orphanage's list (not that he or
KIM
you 'ud understand what that means) ; but the
best schooling a boy can get in India is, of course,
at St. Xavier's in Partibus at Lucknow." This
took some time to interpret, for Bennett wished to
cut it short.
" He wants to know how much ? " said Kim
placidly.
" Two or three hundred rupees a year." Father
Victor was long past any sense of amazement.
Bennett, impatient, did not understand.
"He says: 'Write that name and the money
upon a paper and give it him.' And he says you
must write your name below, because he is going
to write a letter in some days to you. He
says you are a good man. He says the other
man is a fool. He is going away."
The lama rose suddenly. " I follow my
Search," he cried, and was gone.
" He'll run slap into the sentries," cried Father
Victor, jumping up as the lama stalked out ;
"but I can't leave the boy." Kim made swift
motion to follow, but checked himself There
was no sound of challenge outside. The lama
had disappeared.
Kim settled himself composedly on the chap-
lain's cot. At least the lama had promised that
he would stay with the Rajput woman from Kulu,
and the rest was of the smallest importance. It
pleased him that the two padres were so evidently
KIM
excited. They talked long in undertones, Father
Victor urging some scheme on Mr. Bennett, who
seemed incredulous. All this was very new and
fascinating, but Kim felt sleepy. They called
men into the tent — one of them certainly was the
Colonel, as his father had prophesied — and they
asked him an infinity of questions, chiefly about
the woman who looked after him, all of which
Kim answered truthfully. They did not seem to
think the woman a good guardian.
After all, this was the newest of his experiences.
Sooner or later, if he chose, he could escape into
great, gray, formless India, beyond tents and
padres and colonels. Meantime, if the Sahibs
were to be impressed, he would do his best to im-
press them. He too was a white man.
After much talk that he could not comprehend,
they handed him over to a sergeant, who had
strict instructions not to let him escape. The
regiment would go on to Umballa, and Kim
would be sent up, partly at the expense of the
Lodge and in part by subscription, to a place
called Sanawar.
" It's miraculous past all whooping. Colonel,"
said Father Victor, when he had talked without a
break for ten minutes. "His Buddhist friend has
levanted after taking my name and address. I
can't quite make out whether he'll pay for the
boy's education or whether he is preparing some
156
KIM
sort of witchcraft on his own account." Then to
Kim : " You'll live to be grateful to your friend
the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man of you
at Sanawar — even at the price o' making you a
Protestant."
" Certainly — most certainly," said Bennett.
" But you will not go to Sanawar," said Kim.
"But we will go to Sanawar, little man. That's
the order of the Commander-in-Chief, who's a
trifle more important than O'Hara's son."
" You will not go to Sanawar. You will go to
thee war."
There was a shout of laughter from the full
tent.
"When you know your own regiment a trifle
better you won't confuse the line of march with
line of battle, Kim. We hope to go to ' thee
war ' sometime." •
" Oah, I know all thatt." Kim drew his bow
again at a venture. If they were not going to the
war, at least they did not know what he knew of
the talk in the verandah at Umballa.
" I know you are not at thee war now ; but I
tell you that as soon as you get to Umballa you
will be sent to the war — the new war. It is a
war of eight thousand men, besides the guns."
" That's explicit. D'you add prophecy to your
other gifts'? Take him along. Sergeant. Take
up a suit for him from the Drums, an' take care
157
KIM
he doesn't slip through your fingers. Who says
the age of miracles is gone by ? I think I'll go
to bed. My poor mind's weakening."
At the far end of the camp, silent as a wild ani-
mal, an hour later sat Kim, newly washed all
over, in a horrible stuff suit that rasped his arms
and legs.
"A most amazin' young bird," said the ser-
geant. " He turns up in charge of a yellow-
headed buck-Brahmin priest, with his father's
lodge-certificates round his neck, talkin' God
knows what all of a red bull. The buck-Brahmin
evaporates without explanations, an' the bhoy sets
cross-legged on the chaplain's bed prophesyin'
bloody war to the men at large. Injia's a wild
land for a God-fearin' man. I'll just tie his leg to
the tent-pole in case he'll go through the roof
What did ye say about the war *? "
*' Eight thousand men, besides guns," said Kim.
" Very soon you will see."
" You're a consolin' little imp. Lie down be-
tween the Drums an' go to bye-bye. Those two
bhoys beside ye will watch your slumbers."
158 '
VI
Now I remember comrades —
Old playmates on new seas —
Whenas we traded orpiment
Among the savages.
Ten thousand leagues to southward.
And thirty years removed —
They knew not noble Valdez,
But me they knew and loved.
Song of Diego Valdez.
Very early in the morning the white tents came
down and disappeared as the Mavericks took a
side-road to Umballa. It did not skirt the resting-
place, and Kim, trudging beside a baggage-cart
under fire of comments from soldiers' wives, was
not so confident as overnight. He discovered that
he was closely watched — Father Victor on the
one side, and Mr. Bennett on the other.
In the forenoon the column checked. A camel-
orderly handed the Colonel a letter. He read it,
and spoke to a Major. Half a mile in the rear,
Kim heard a hoarse and joyful clamour rolling
down on him through the thick dust. Then some
KIM
one beat him on the back, crying : " Tell us how
ye knew, ye little limb of Satan *? Father dear, see
if ye can make him tell."
A pony ranged alongside, and he was hauled on
to the priest's saddle-bow.
" Now, my son, your prophecy of last night has
come true. Our orders are to entrain at Umballa
for the front to-morrow."
" What is that *? " said Kim, for front and entrain
were newish words to him.
" We are going to ' thee war,' as you called it."
" Of course you are going to thee war. I said
last night."
" Ye did ; but, Powers o' Darkness, how did ye
know?"
Kim's eyes sparkled. He shut his lips, nodded
his head, and looked unspeakable things. The
chaplain moved on through the dust, and privates,
sergeants, and subalterns called one another's atten-
tion to the boy. The Colonel, at the head of the
column, stared at him curiously. " It was probably
some bazar-rumour," he said; "but even then — "
He referred to the paper in his hand. " Hang it all,
the thing was only decided within the last forty-
eight hours."
"Are there many more like you in India*?" said
Father Victor, " or are you by way o' being a lusiis
nature ? "
" Now I have told you," said the boy, " will you
160
KIM
let me go back to my old man? If he has not
stayed with that woman from Kulu, I am afraid he
will die."
" By what I saw of him he's as well able to take
care of himself as you. No. Ye've brought us
luck, an' we're goin' to make a man of you. I'll
take ye back to your baggage-cart and ye '11 come
to me this evening."
For the rest of the day Kim found himself an
object of distinguished consideration among a ftw
hundred white men. The story of his appearance
in camp, the discovery of his parentage, and his
prophecy, had lost nothing in the telling. A big,
shapeless white woman on a pile of bedding asked
him mysteriously whether he thought her husband
would come back from the war. Kim reflected
gravely, and said that he would, and the woman
gave him food. In many respects, this big pro-
cession that played music at intervals — this crowd
that talked and laughed so easily — resembled
a festival in Lahore city. So far, there was no
sign of hard work, and he resolved to lend the
spectacle his patronage. At evening there came
out to meet them bands of music, and played
the Mavericks into camp near Umballa railway
station. That was an interesting night. Men of
other regiments came to visit the Mavericks. The
Mavericks went visiting on their own account.
Their pickets hurried forth to bring them back,
161
KIM
met pickets of strange regiments on the same duty;
and, after a while, the bugles blew madly for more
pickets with officers to control the tumult. The
Mavericks had a reputation for liveliness to live
up to. But they fell in on the platform next
morning in perfect shape and condition; and Kim,
left behind with the sick, women, and boys, found
himself shouting farewells excitedly as the trains
drew away. Life as a Sahib was amusing so far;
but he touched it with a very cautious hand.
Then they, marched him back in charge of a
drummer-boy to empty, lime-washed barracks,
whose floors were covered with rubbish and string
and paper, and whose ceilings gave back his lonely
footfall. Native fashion, he curled himself up on
a stripped cot and went to sleep. An angry man
stumped down the verandah, woke him up, and
said he was a schoolmaster. This was enough for
Kim, and he retired into his shell. He could just
puzzle out the various English Police notices in
Lahore city, because they affected his comfort;
and among the many guests of the woman who
looked after him had been a queer German who
painted scenery for the Parsee travelling theatre.
He told Kim that he had been " on the barricades
in Forty-eight," and therefore — at least that was
how it struck Kim — he would teach the boy to
write in return for food. Kim had been kicked as
far as single letters, but did not think well of them.
162
KIM
" I do not know anything. Go away I " said
Kim, scenting evil. Hereupon the man caught
him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off
wing where a dozen drummer-boys were sitting
on forms, and told him to be still if he could do
nothing else. This he managed very successfully.
The man explained something or other with white
lines on a blackboard for at least half an hour, and
Kim continued his interrupted nap. He much dis-
approved of the present aspect of affairs, for this
was the very school and discipline he had spent
two-thirds of his young life in avoiding. Suddenly
a beautiful idea occurred to him, and he wondered
that he had not thought of it before.
The man dismissed them, and first to spring
through the verandah into the open sunshine was
Kim.
" 'Ere you I 'Alt ! Stop ! " said a high voice at
his heels. " I've got to look after you. My orders
are not to let you out of my sight. Where are you
goin' ? "
It was the drummer-boy who had been hanging
round him all the forenoon — a fat and freckled
person of about fourteen, and Kim loathed him from
the soles of his boots to his cap-ribbons.
"To the bazar — to get sweets — for you," said
Kim, after thought.
" Well, the bazar's out o' bounds. If we go
there we'll get a dressing-down. You come back."
163
KIM
"How near can we go*?" Kim did not know
what bounds meant, but he wished to be poHte —
for the present.
" 'Ow near ? 'Ow far, you mean ? We can go
as far as that tree down the road."
" Then I will go there."
" All right. I ain't goin'. It's too 'ot. I can
watch you from 'ere. It's no good your runnin'
away. If you did, they'd spot you by your clothes.
That's regimental stuff you're wearin'. There ain't
a picket in Umballa wouldn't 'ead you back quicker
than you started out."
This did not impress Kim as much as the
knowledge that his raiment would tire him out if
he tried to run. He slouched to the tree at the
corner of a bare road leading towards the bazar,
and eyed the natives passing. Most of them
were barrack-servants of the lowest caste. Kim
hailed a sweeper, who promptly retorted with a
piece of unnecessary insolence, in the natural belief
that the European boy could not follow. The
low, quick answer undeceived him. Kim put his
fettered soul into it, thankful for the late chance
to abuse somebody in the tongue he knew best.
"And now, go to the nearest letter-writer in the bazar
and tell him to come here. I would write a letter."
"But — but what manner of white man's son art
thou, to need a bazar letter-writer^ Is there not
a schoolmaster in the barracks ? "
164
KIM
" Ay ; and Hell is full of the same sort. Do my
order, you — you Od I Thy mother was married
under a basket ! Servant of Lai Beg" (Kim knew
the god of the sweepers), " run on my business or
we will talk again."
The swteper shuffled off in haste. " There is a
white boy by the barracks waiting under a tree
who is not a white boy," he stammered to the first
bazar letter-writer he came across. " He needs
thee."
" Will he pay ? " said that spruce scribe, gather-
ing up his desk and pens and sealing-wax all in
order.
" I do not know. He is not like other boys.
Go and see. It is well worth."
Kim danced with impatience when the slim
young Kayeth hove in sight. As soon as his voice
could carry he cursed him volubly.
" First I will take my pay," the letter-writer said.
" Bad words have made the price higher. But who
art thou, dressed in that fashion, to speak in this
fashion *? "
" Aha ! That is in the letter which thou shalt
write. Never was such a tale. But I am in no
haste. Another writer will serve me. Umballa
city is as full of them as is Lahore."
" Four annas," said the writer, sitting down and
spreading his cloth in the shade of a deserted
barrack-wing.
165
KIM
Mechanically Kim squatted beside him, —
squatted as only the natives can, — in spite ot the
abominable clinging trousers.
The writer regarded him sideways.
"That is the price to ask of Sahibs," said Kim.
" Now fix me a true one."
" An anna and a half. How do I know, hav-
ing written the letter, that thou wilt not run
away *? "
" I must not go beyond this tree, and there is
also the stamp to be considered."
" I get no commission on the price of the
stamp. Once more, what manner of white boy art
thou •? "
" That shall be said in the letter, which is to
Mahbub Ali, the horse-dealer in the Kashmir Serai,
at Lahore. He is my friend."
" Wonder on wonder I " murmured the letter-
writer, dipping a reed in the inkstand. " To be
written in Hindi ? "
" Assuredly. To Mahbub Ali then. Begin !
/ have come down ivith the old man as far as Umballa
in the train. At Umballa I carried the nezcs of
the bay mare's pedigreed After what he had seen
in the garden, he was not going to write of white
stallions.
" Slower a little. What has a bay mare to do?
... Is it Mahbub Ali the great dealer ? "
" Who else ? I have been in his service. Take
166
^•i
KIM AND THE LETTER-WRITER
KIM
Mechanically Kim squatted beside him, —
squatted as only tlie natives can, — in spite ot the
abominable clinging trousers.
The writer regarded him sideways.
"That is the price to ask of Sahibs," said Kim.
" Now fix me a true one."
" An anna and a half. How do I know, hav-
ing written the letter, that thou wilt not run
away ? "
" I must not go beyond this tree, and there is
also the stamp to be considered."
"I get no commission on the price .)i the
stamp. Once more, what manner of white boy art
thou ? "
" That shall be said in the letter, which is to
Mahbub Ali, the horse-dealer in the Kashmir Serai,
at Lahore. He is my friend."
" Wonder on wonder I " murmured the letter-
writer, dipping a reed in the inkstand. " To be
written in Hindi ^ "
"Assuredly. To Mahbub Ali then. Begin!
/ have come down with the old man as far as Umballa
in the train. At Umballa I carried the nruos of
the hay mare's pedigree'' After what he had seen
in the garden, he was not going to write of white
stallions.
" Slower a little. What has a bay mare to do"?
... Is it Mahbub Ali the great dealer?
1 f /)
1 ;iKe
KIM
more ink. Again. As the order was, so I did it.
IV e then voent on foot tozcards Benares, hut on the
third day zue found a certain regiment. Is that
down *? "
"Ay, p2dton" murmured the writer, all ears.
" / ivent into their camp and was caught, and by
fneans of the charm about my neck, which thou knowest,
it zvas established that I was the son of some man in the
regiment: according to the -prophecy of the Red Bull,
which thou k?iowest was common talk of our bazar T
Kim waited for this shaft to sink into the letter-
writer's heart, cleared his throat, and continued :
" A priest clothed me and gave ?ne a new name. . . .
One priest, however, was a fool. 'T'he clothes are very
heavy, but I am a Sahib and my heart is heavy too.
I'hey send me to a school and heat me. I do not like
the air and water here. Come then and help me,
Mahbub AH, or send me some money, for I have not
sufficient to pay the writer who writes this!'
" ' Who writes this.' It is my own fault that I
was tricked. Thou art as clever as Husain Bux
that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao. But
what a tale ! What a tale ! Is it true by any
chance ^ "
" It does not profit to tell lies to Mahbub Ali.
It is better to help his friends by lending them a
stamp. When the money comes I will repay."
The writer grunted doubtfully, but took a stamp
out of his desk, sealed the letter, handed it over to
167
KIM
Kim, and departed. Mahbub All's was a name of
power in Umballa.
" That is the way to win a good account with
the Gods," Kim shouted after him,
" Pay me twice over when the money comes,"
the man cried over his shoulder.
" What was you bukkin' to that nigger about *? "
said the drummer-boy when Kim returned to the
verandah. " I was watchin' you."
" I was only talkin' to him."
" You talk the same as a nigger, don't you *? "
" No-ah I No-ah ! I onlee speak a little. What
shall we do now *? "
" The bugles 'ill go for dinner in 'arf a minute.
My Gawd ! I wish I'd gone up to the front with
the regiment. It's awful doin' nothin' but school
down 'ere. Don't you 'ate it ? "
" Oah yess I "
" I'd run away if I knew where to go to, but, as
the men say, in this bloomin' Injia you're only a
prisoner at large. You can't desert without bein'
took back at once. I'm fair sick of it."
" You have been in Be — England ? "
" W'y, I only come out last troopin' season with
my mother. I should think I 'ave been in Eng-
land. What a ignorant little beggar you are.
You was brought up in the gutter, wasn't you ? "
" Oah yess. Tell me something about England.
My father he came from there."
168
KIM
Though he would not say so, Kim of course
disbelieved every word the drummer-boy spoke
about the Liverpool suburb which was his Eng-
land. It passed the heavy time till dinner — a
most unappetising meal served to the boys and a
few invalids in a corner of a barrack-room. But
that he had written to Mahbub Ali, Kim would
have been almost depressed. The indifference of
native crowds he was used to ; but this strong lone-
liness among white men preyed on him. He was
grateful when, in the course of the afternoon, a big
soldier took him over to Father Victor, who lived
in another wing across another dusty parade-ground.
The priest was reading an English letter written
in purple ink. He looked at Kim more curiously
than ever.
" An' how do you like it, my son, as far as you've
gone *? Not miich, eh *? It must be hard — very
hard on a wild animal. Listen now. I've an
amazin' epistle from your friend."
" Where is he ? Is he well ? Oah ! If he
knows to write me letters, it is all right."
" You're fond of him then ? "
" Of course I am fond of him. He was fond of
me."
" It seems so by the look of this. He can't
write EngHsh, can he? "
" Oah no. Not that I know, but i?/" course he
found a letter-writer who can write English verree
169
KIM
well, and so he wrote. I do hope you under-
stand."
" That accounts for it. D'you know anything
about his money affairs *? " Kim's face showed
that he did not.
"How can I tell?"
"That's what I'm askin'. Now listen if you
can make head or tail o' this. We'll skip the
first part. . . . It's written from Jagadhir Road.
. . . ' Sitting on wayside in grave meditation, trusting
to he favoured with your Honour's applause of present
step, which recommend your Honotir to execute for Al-
mighty God's sake. Education is greatest blessing if
of best sorts. Otherwise no earthly use.' Faith, the
old man's hit the bull's-eye that time I ' If your
Honour condescending gii'ing my boy best educations
Xavier' (I suppose that's St. Xavier in Partibus)
' it! terms of our conversation dated in your tent i ^th
instant' (a business-like touch there I) ''then Al-
mighty God blessing your Honour's succeedings to third
an' fourth generation and' — now listen I — ' confide in
your Honour's humble servant for adequate remunera-
tion per hoondie per annum three hundred rupees a year
to one expensive education St. Xavier, Lucknow, and
allow small time toforzvard same per hoondie sent to any
part of India as your Honour shall address yourself
'^his servant of your Honour has presently no place to
lay crown of his head, hut going to Benares by train on
account of persecution of old woman talking so much and
170
KIM
2inanxious residing Saharunpore in any domestic capa-
city.' Now what in the world does that mean *? "
"She has asked him to be pi/ro — her clergyman
— at Saharunpore, / think. He would not do that
on account of his River. She did talk."
"It's clear to you, is it? It beats me alto-
gether, ''So going to Benares., where willjind address
and forward rupees for boy who is apple of eye^ and
for Almighty God's sake execute this education, and
your petitioner as in duty bound shall ever awfully
pray. IVritten by Sobrao Satai., Failed Entrance
Allahabad University, for Venerable T'eshoo Lama the
priest of Such-zen looking for a River, address care of
T'irthankers' T'efnple, Benares. P.M. — Please note
boy is apple of eye, and rupees shall be sent per hoondie
three hundred per annum. For God Almighty's sake.'
Now, is that ravin' lunacy or a business propo-
sition ? I ask you, because I'm fairly at my wits'
end."
" He says he will give me three hundred rupees
a year, so he will give me them."
" Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it ? "
" Of course. If he says so ! "
The priest whistled ; then he addressed Kim as
an equal,
" I don't believe it ; but we'll see. You were
goin' off to-day to the Military Orphanage at
Sanawar, where the regiment would keep you till
you were old enough to enlist. Ye'd be brought
171
KIM
up to the Churcn of England. Bennett arranged
for that. On the other hand, if ye go to St.
Xavier's ye'll get a better education an' — an' can
have the reHgion. D'ye see my dilemma *? "
Kim saw nothing save a vision of the lama
going south in a train with none to beg for him.
" Like most people, I'm going to temporise. If
your friend sends the money from Benares —
Powers of Darkness below, where's a street-beggar
to raise three hundred rupees *? — ye'll go down to
Lucknow and I'll pay your fare, because I can't
touch the subscription-money if I intend, as I do,
to make ye a Catholic. If he doesn't, ye'll go to
the Military Orphanage at the regiment's expense.
I'll allow him three days' grace, though I don't be-
lieve it at all. Even then, if he fails in his pay-
ments later on . . . but it's beyond me. We can
only walk one step at a time in this world, praise
God. An' they sent Bennett to the front an' left
me behind. He can't expect everything."
" Oah yess," said Kim vaguely.
The priest leaned forward. "I'd give a month's
pay to find what's goin' on inside that little round
head of yours."
" There is nothing," said Kim, and scratched it.
He was wondering whether Mahbub Ali would
send him as much as a whole rupee. Then he
could pay the letter-writer and write letters to the
lama at Benares. Perhaps Mahbub Ali would
172
KIM
visit him next time he came south with horses.
Surely he must know that Kim's delivery of the
letter to the officer at Umballa had caused the
great war which the men and boys had discussed
so loudly over the barrack dinner-tables. But if
Mahbub AH did not know this, it would be very
unsafe to tell him so. Mahbub Ali was hard
upon boys who knew, or thought they knew, too
much.
"Well, till I get further news " — Father Victor's
voice interrupted the reverie — " ye can run along
and play with the other boys. They'll teach ye
something — but I don't think ye'U like it."
The day dragged to its weary end. When he
wished to sleep he was instructed how to fold up
his clothes and set out his boots ; the other boys
deriding. Bugles waked him in the dawn; the
schoolmaster caught him after breakfast, thrust a
page of meaningless characters under his nose,
gave them senseless names, and whacked him
without reason. Kim meditated poisoning him
with opium borrowed from a barrack-sweeper, but
reflected that, as they all ate at one table in public
(this was peculiarly revolting to Kim, who pre-
ferred to turn his back on the world at meals), the
stroke might be dangerous. Then he attempted
running off to the village where the priest had
tried to drug the lama — the village where the old
soldier lived. But far-seeing sentries at every exit
173
KIM
headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers and
jacket crippled body and mind alike, so he aban-
doned the project and fell back, Oriental fashion,
on time and chance. Three days of torment
passed in the big, echoing white rooms. He
walked out of afternoons under escort of the
drummer-boy, and all he heard from his compan-
ion were the few useless words which seemed to
make two-thirds of the white man's abuse. Kim
knew and despised them all long ago. The
boy resented his silence and lack of interest by
beating him, as was only natural. He did not
care for any of the bazars which were in bounds.
He styled all natives " niggers " ; yet servants and
sweepers called him abominable names to his face,
and, misled by their deferential attitude, he never
understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for
the beatings.
On the morning of the fourth day a judgment
overtook that drummer. They had gone out to-
gether towards Umballa race-course. He returned
alone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to
whom he had been doing nothing in particular,
had hailed a scarlet-bearded nigger on horseback ;
that the nigger had then and there laid into him
with a peculiarly adhesive quirt, picked up young
O'Hara, and borne him off at full gallop. These
tidings came to Father Victor, and he drew down
his long upper lip. He was already sufficiently
KIM
startled by a letter from the Temple of the Tir-
thankers at Benares, enclosing a native banker's
note of hand for three hundred rupees, and an
amazing prayer to "Almighty God." The lama
would have been more annoyed than the priest
had he known how the bazar letter-writer had
translated his phrase " to acquire merit."
"• Powers of Darkness below ! " Father Victor
fumbled with the note. " An' now he's off with
another of his peep-o'-day friends. I don't know
whether it will be a greater relief to me to get
him back or to have him lost. He's beyond my
comprehension. How the Divil — yes, he's the
man I mean — can a street-beggar raise money to
educate white boys?"
Three miles off, on Umballa race-course, Mahbub
Ali, reining a gray Cabuli stallion with Kim in
front of him, was saying:
" But, Little Friend of all the World, there is my
honour and reputation to be considered. All the
ofRcer-sahibs in all the regiments, and all Umballa,
know Mahbub Ali. Men saw me pick thee up
and chastise that boy. We are seen now from far
across this plain. How can I take thee away, or
account for thy disappearing if I set thee down
and let thee run off into the crops ? They would
put me in jail. Be patient. Once a Sahib, always
a Sahib. When thou art a man — who knows —
thou wilt be grateful to Mahbub Ali."
KIM
" Take me beyond their sentries where I can
change this red. Give me money and I will go to
Benares and be with my lama again. I do not
want to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver
that message."
The stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had
incautiously driven home the sharp-edged stirrup.
(He was not the new sort of fluent horse-dealer
who wears English boots and spurs.) Kim drew
his own conclusions from that betrayal.
" That was a small matter. It lay on the
straight road to Benares. I and the Sahib have by
this time forgotten it. I send so many letters
and messages to men who ask. questions about
horses, I cannot well remember one from the other.
Was it some matter of a bay mare that Peters
Sahib wished the pedigree of?"
Kim saw the trap at once. If he had said " bay
mare " Mahbub would have known by his very
readiness to fall in with the amendment that the
boy suspected something. Kim replied therefore :
" Bay mare. No. / do not forget my messages
thus. It was a white stallion."
"Ay, so it was. A white Arab stallion. But
thou didst write bay mare to me."
" Who cares to tell truth to a letter-writer ? "
Kim answered, feeling Mahbub's palm on his
heart.
" Hi ! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up I " cried
176
KIM
a voice, and an Englishman raced alongside on a
little polo-pony. " I've been chasing you half over
the country. That Cabuli of yours can go. For
sale, I suppose ? "
" I have some young stuff coming on made by
Heaven for the delicate and difficult polo-game.
He has no equal. He — "
" Plays polo and waits at table. Yes. We know
all that. What the deuce have you got there ? "
" A boy," said Mahbub gravely. " He was being
beaten by another boy. His father was once a
white soldier in the big war. The boy was a child
in Lahore city. He played with my horses when
he was a babe. Now I think they will make him a
soldier. He has been newly caught by his father's
regiment that went up to the war last week. But
I do not think he wants to be a soldier. I take
him for a ride. Tell me where thy barracks are
and I will set thee there."
" Let me go. I can find the barracks alone."
"And if thou runnest away who will say it is
not my fault ? "
" He'll run back to his dinner. Where has he
to run to ? " the Englishman asked.
" He was bom in the land. He has friends.
He goes where he chooses. He is a chabuk
saivai (a sharp chap). It needs only to change
his clothing, and in a twinkling he would be a low-
caste Hindi boy."
177
KIM
" The deuce he would I " The Englishman
looked critically at the boy as Mahbub headed
towards the barracks. Kim ground his teeth.
Mahbub was mocking him, as faithless Afghans
will; for he went on:
" They will send him to a school and put heavy
boots on his feet and swaddle him in these clothes.
Then he will forget all he knows. Now which of
the barracks is thine *? "
Kim pointed — he could not speak — to Father
Victor's wing, all staring white near by.
" Perhaps he will make a good soldier," said
Mahbub reflectively. " He will make a good
orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a message
once from Lahore. A message concerning the
pedigree of a white stallion."
Here was deadly insult on deadlier injury —
and the Sahib to whom he had so craftily given
that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim beheld
Mahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but
for himself he saw one long gray vista of barracks,
schools, and barracks again. He gazed implor-
ingly at the clear-cut face in which there was no
glimmer of recognition; but even at this extremity
it never occurred to him to throw himself on the
white man's mercy or to denounce the Afghan.
And Mahbub stared deliberately at the English-
man, who stared as deliberately at Kim, quivering
and tongue-tied.
.78
KIM
"My horse is well trained," said the dealer.
" Others would have kicked, Sahib."
"Ah," said the Englishman at last, rubbing his
pony's damp withers with his whip-butt. " Who
makes the boy a soldier ? "
" He says the regiment that found him, and
especially the padre-sahib of that regiment."
" There is the padre ! " Kim choked as bare-
headed Father Victor sailed down upon them from
the verandah.
" Powers o' Darkness below, O'Hara I How
many more mixed friends do you keep in Asia ? "
he cried, as Kim slid down and stood helplessly
before him.
"Good morning, Padre," the Colonel said
cheerily. " I know you by reputation well enough.
Meant to have come over and called before this.
I'm Creighton."
" Of the Ethnological Survey ? " said Father Vic-
tor. The Colonel nodded. "Faith I'm glad to
meet ye then ; an' I owe you some thanks for
bringing back the boy."
"No thanks to me, Padre. Besides, the boy
wasn't going away. You don't know old Mahbub
Ali " — the horse-dealer sat impassive in the sun-
light. " You will when you have been in the
station a month. He sells us all our crocks. That
boy is rather a curiosity. Can you tell me anything
about him ? "
179
KIM
"Can I tell you*?" puffed Father Victor.
"' You'll be the one man that could help me in my
quandaries. Tell you ! Powers o' Darkness, I'm
bursting to tell some one who knows something o'
the native ! "
A groom came round the corner. Colonel
Creighton raised his voice, speaking in Urdu.
" Very good, Mahbub Ali, but what is the use of
telling me all those stories about the pony? Not
one pie more than three hundred and fifty rupees
will I give."
"The Sahib is a little hot and angry after
riding," the horse-dealer returned, with the leer of
a privileged jester. " Presently he will see my
horse's points more clearly. I will wait till he has
finished his talk with the padre. I will wait under
that tree."
" Confound you I " The Colonel laughed.
" That comes of looking at one of Mahbub's
horses. He's a regular old leech. Padre. Wait
then, if thou hast so much time to spare, Mahbub.
Now I'm at your service. Padre. Where is the
boy ? Oh, he's gone off to collogue with Mahbub.
Queer sort of boy. Might I ask you to send my
mare round under cover ? "
He dropped into a chair which commanded a
clear view of Kim and Mahbub Ali in conference
beneath the tree. The padre went indoors for
cheroots.
180
KIM
Creighton heard Kim say bitterly : " Trust a
Brahmin before a snake, and a snake before a
harlot, and a harlot before an Afghan, Mahbub
Ali."
" That is all one," the great red beard wagged
solemnly, " Children should not see a carpet on
the loom till the pattern is made plain. Believe
me. Friend of all the World, I do thee great ser-
vice. They will not make a soldier of thee."
" You crafty old sinner," thought Creighton.
" But you're not far wrong. That boy mustn't
be wasted if he is as advertised."
"Excuse me half a minute," cried the padre
from within, " but I'm gettin' the documents of
the case."
" If through me the favour of this bold and wise
Colonel Sahib comes to thee, and thou art raised to
honour, what thanks wilt thou give Mahbub Ali
when thou art a man *? "
" Nay, nay ; I begged thee to let me take the
road again, where I should have been safe ; and
thou hast sold me back to the English. What
will they give thee for blood-money *? "
" A cheerful young demon ! " The Colonel bit
his cigar, and turned politely to Father Victor.
" What are the letters that the fat priest is wav-
ing before the Colonel ? Stand behind the stallion
as though looking at my bridle ! " said Mahbub
Ali.
181
KIM
" A letter from my lama which he wrote from
Jagadhir Road, saying that he will pay three hun-
dred rupees by the year for my schooling."
" Oho I Is old Red Hat of that sort ? At
which school ? "
"God knows. I think in Nucklao."
" Yes. There is a big school there for the sons
of Sahibs — and half-Sahibs. I have seen it when
I sell horses there. So the lama also loved the
Friend of all the World?"
"Ay; and he did not tell lies, or return me to
captivity."
" Small wonder the padre does not know how
to unravel the thread. How fast he talks to the
Colonel Sahib." Mahbub Ali chuckled. "By
Allah I " — the keen eyes swept the verandah for
an instant — " thy lama has sent what to me looks
like a note of hand. I have had some small
dealings in hoondies. The Colonel Sahib is look-
ing at it."
" What good is all this to me *? " said Kim wea-
rily. " Thou wilt go away, and they will return
me to those empty rooms where there is no good
place to sleep and where the boys beat me."
" I do not think that. Have patience, child.
All Pathans are not faithless — except in horse-flesh."
Five — ten — fifteen minutes passed, Father
Victor talking energetically or asking questions
which the Colonel answered.
182
KIM
"Now I've told you everything that I know
about the boy from beginnin' to end; and it's
a blessed relief to me. Did ye ever hear the
like ? "
" At any rate, the old man has sent the money.
Gobind Sahai's notes of hand are good from here
to China," said the Colonel. " The more one
knows about natives the less can one say what they
will or won't do."
"That's consolin' — from the head of the Eth-
nological Survey. It's this mixture of Red Bulls
and Rivers of Healing (poor heathen, God help
him !) an' notes of hand and Masonic certificates.
Are you a Mason, by any chance *? "
" By Jove, I am, now I come to think of it.
That's an additional reason," said the Colonel
absently.
" I'm glad ye see a reason in it. But as I said,
it's the mixture o' things that's beyond me. An'
his prophesyin' to our Colonel sitting on my bed
with his little shimmy torn open showing his white
skin ; an' the prophecy comin' true I They'll cure
all that nonsense at St. Xavier's, eh*?"
"Sprinkle him with holy water," the Colonel
laughed.
" On my word, I fancy I ought to sometimes.
But I'm hoping he'll be brought up as a good
Catholic. All] that troubles me is what'U happen
if the old beggar man — "
183
KIM
"Lama, lama, my dear sir; and some of them
are gentlemen in their own country."
" The lama, then, fails to pay next year. He's
a fine business head to plan on the spur of the
moment, but he's bound to die some day. An'
takin' a heathen's money to give a child a Chris-
tian education — "
"But he said explicitly what he wanted. As
soon as he knew the boy was a white he seems to
have made his arrangements accordingly. I'd give
a month's pay to hear how he explained it all at
the Tirthankers' Temple at Benares. Look here,
Padre, I don't pretend to know much about natives,
but if he says he'll pay, he'll pay — dead or alive.
I mean his heirs will assume the debt. My advice
to you is, send the boy down to Lucknow. If
your Anglican chaplain thinks you've stolen a
march on him — "
"Bad luck to Bennett I He was sent to the
front instead o' me. Doughty certified me
medically unfit. I'll excommunicate Doughty if
he comes back alive I Surely Bennett ought to be
content with — "
" Glory, leaving you the religion. Quite so I
As a matter of fact I don't think Bennett will mind.
Put the blame on me. I — er — strongly recommend
sending the boy to St. Xavier's. He can go down
on pass as a soldier's orphan, so the railway fare
will be saved. You can buy him an outfit from
184
KIM
the regimental subscription. The Lodge will be
saved the expense of his education, and that will
put the Lodge in a good temper. It's perfectly-
easy. I've got to go down to Lucknow next
week. I'll look after the boy on the way — give
him in charge of my servants, and so on."
" You're a good man."
"Not in the least. Don't make that mistake.
The lama has sent us money for a definite end.
We can't very well return it. We shall have to
do as he says. Well, that's settled, isn't it ? Shall
we say that, Tuesday next, you'll hand him over
to me at the night train south? That's only
three days. He can't do much harm in three days."
" It's a weight off my mind, but — this thing
here *? " — he waved the note of hand — "I don't
know Gobind Sahai : or his bank, which may be a
hole in a wall."
" Tou've never been a subaltern in debt. I'll
cash it if you like, and send you the vouchers in
proper order."
" But with all your own work too I It's
askin'— "
" It's not the least trouble indeed. You see, as
an ethnologist, the thing's very interesting to me.
I'd like to make a note of it for some Government
work that I'm doing. The transformation of a
regimental badge like your Red Bull into a sort of
fetish that the boy follows is very interesting."
185
KIM
" But I can't thank you enough."
" There's one thing you can do. All we
Ethnological men are as jealous as jackdaws of one
another's discoveries. They're of no interest to
any one but ourselves, of course, but you know
what book-collectors are like. Well, don't say a
word, directly or indirectly, about the Asiatic side
of the boy's character — his adventures and his
prophecy, and so on. I'll worm them out of the
boy later on and — you see *? "
" I do. Ye'U make a wonderful account of it.
Never a word will I say to any one till I see it
in print."
" Thank you. That goes straight to an eth-
nologist's heart. Well, I must be getting back to
my breakfast. Good Heavens I Old Mahbub
here still ? " He raised his voice, and the horse-
dealer came out from under the shadow of the tree.
" Well, what is it *? "
"As regards that young horse," said Mahbub,
" I say that when a colt is born to be a polo-pony,
closely following the ball without teaching — when
such a colt knows the game by divination — then I
say it is a great wrong to break that colt to a heavy
cart, Sahib I "
" So do I say also, Mahbub. The colt will be
entered for polo only. (These fellows think of
nothing in the world but horses, Padre.) I'll see
you to-morrow, Mahbub, if you've anything likely
for sale."
186
KIM
The dealer saluted, horseman fashion, with a
sweep of the offhand. "Be patient a Httle, Friend
of all the World," he whispered to the agonised
Kim. " Thy fortune is made. In a little while
thou goest to Nucklao, and — here is something to
pay the letter-writer. I shall see thee again, I
think, many times," and he cantered off down the
road.
" Listen to me," said the Colonel from the
verandah, speaking in the vernacular. " In three
days thou wilt go with me to Lucknow, seeing and
hearing new things all the while. Therefore sit
still for three days and do not run away. Thou
wilt go to school at Lucknow."
"Shall I meet my Holy One there?" Kim
whimpered.
"At least Lucknow is nearer to Benares than
Umballa. It may be thou wilt go under my
protection. Mahbub Ali knows this, and he will
be angry if thou returnest to the road now.
Remember — much has been told me which I do
not forget."
" I will wait," said Kim, " but the boys will beat
me."
Then the bugles blew for dinner.
187
VII
Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised
With idiot moons and stars retracting stars ?
Creep thou betweene — thy coming's all unnoised.
Heaven hath her high as earth her baser wars.
Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fraye
(By Adam's fathers' own sin bound alway) ;
Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say
Which planet mends thy threadbare fate or mars!
Sir John Christie.
In the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told
Kim that he had been " struck off the strength,"
which conveyed no meaning to him till he was
ordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the
bazar, and found the young letter-writer to whom
he owed a stamp.
"Now I pay," said Kim royally, "and now I
need another letter to be written."
" Mahbub Ali is in Umballa," said the writer
jauntily. He was, by virtue of his office, a bureau
of general misinformation.
" This is not to Mahbub, but to a priest. Take
thy pen and write quickly. 9l? T'eshoo Lama, the
188
KIM
holy one from Bhotiyal seeking for a River ^ who is
now in the 'temple of the I'irthankers at Benares.
Take more ink I In three days I am to go down to
Nucklao to the school at Nucklao. T'he name of the
school is Xavier. I do not know where that school is^
but it is at Nucklao."
" But I know Nucklao," the writer interrupted.
" I know the school."
" Tell him where it is, and I give half an
anna."
The reed pen scratched busily, " He cannot
mistake." The man lifted his head. " Who
watches us across the street *? "
Kim looked up hurriedly and saw Colonel
Creighton in tennis-flannels.
" Oh, that is some Sahib who knows the fat
priest in the barracks. He is beckoning me."
" What dost thou ? " said the Colonel, when
Kim trotted up.
"I — I am not running away. I send a letter to
my Holy One at Benares."
" I had not thought of that. Hast thou said
that I take thee to Lucknow ? "
" Nay, I have not. Read the letter, if there be
a doubt."
" Then why hast thou left out my name in
writing to that Holy One *? " The Colonel smiled
a queer smile. Kim took his courage in both
hands.
189
KIM
"It was said once to me that it is inexpedient to
write the names of strangers concerned in any mat-
ter, because by the naming of names many good
plans are brought to confusion."
"Thou hast been well taught," the Colonel re-
plied, and Kim flushed. " I have left my cheroot-
case in the padre's verandah. Bring it to my
house this even."
" Where is the house ? " said Kim. His quick
wit told him that he was being tested in some
fashion or another, and he stood on guard.
" Ask any one in the big bazar." The Colonel
walked on.
"He has forgotten his cheroot-case," said Kim,
returning. " I must bring it to him this evening.
That is all my letter except, thrice over. Come to
me ! Come to me! Co?ne to me! Now I will pay
for a stamp and put it in the post." He rose to
go, and as an after-thought asked: "Who is that
angry-faced Sahib who lost the cheroot-case ? "
"Oh, he is only Creighton Sahib — a very foolish
Sahib, who is a Colonel Sahib without a regi-
ment."
" What is his business*? "
" God knows. He is always buying horses
which he cannot ride, and asking riddles about the
works of God — such as plants and stones and the
customs of people. The dealers call him the
father of fools, because he is so easily cheated about
190
KIM
a horse, Mahbub Ali says he is madder than all
other Sahibs."
" Oh ! " said Kim, and departed. His training
had given him some small knowledge of character,
and he argued that fools are not given information
which leads to calling out eight thousand men be-
sides guns. The Commander-in-Chief of all India
does not talk, as Kim had heard him talk, to fools.
Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it
did every time he mentioned the Colonel's name,
if the Colonel had been a fool. Consequently —
and this set Kim to skipping — there was a mys-
tery somewhere, and Mahbub Ali probably spied
for the Colonel much as Kim had spied for Mah-
bub. And, like the horse-dealer, the Colonel evi-
dently respected people who did not show them-
selves to be too clever.
He rejoiced that he had not betrayed his know-
ledge of the Colonel's house ; and when, on his re-
turn to barracks, he discovered that no cheroot-
case had been left behind, he beamed with delight.
Here was a man after his own heart — a tortuous
and indirect person playing a hidden game. Well,
if he could be a fool, so could Kim.
He showed nothing of his mind when Father
Victor, for three long mornings, discoursed to him
of an entirely new set of gods and godlings —
notably of a goddess called Mary, who, he gath-
ered, was one with Bibi Miriam of Mahbub Ali's
191
KIM
theology. He betrayed no emotion when, after
the lecture, Father Victor dragged him from shop
to shop buying articles of outfit, nor when envious
drummer-boys kicked him because he was going to
a superior school did he complain, but awaited the
play of circumstances with an interested soul.
Father Victor, good man, took him to the station,
put him into an empty second-class next to Colonel
Creighton's first, and bade him farewell with genu-
ine feeling.
" They'll make a man o' you, O'Hara, at St.
Xavier's — a white man, an', I hope, a good man.
They know all about your comin', an' the Colonel
will see that ye're not lost or mislaid anywhere on
the road. I've given you a notion of religious
matters, — at least I hope so, — and you'll remem-
ber, when they ask you your religion, that you're a
Cath'lic. Better say Roman Cath'lic, though I'm
not fond of the word."
Kim lit a rank cigarette — he had been careful to
buy a stock in the bazar — and lay down to think.
This solitary passage was very different from that
joyful down-journey in the third-class with the
lama. " Sahibs get little pleasure of travel," he
reflected. "" Hai mail I go from one place to
another as it might be a kick-ball. It is my
Kismet. No man can escape his Kis?net. But I
am to pray to Bibi Miriam, and I am a Sahib " — he
looked at his boots ruefully. "No; I am Kim.
192
KIM
This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who
is Kim *? " He considered his own identity, a
thing he had never done before, till his head swam.
He was one insignificant person in all this roaring
whirl of India, going southward to he knew not
what fate.
Presently the Colonel sent for him, and talked
for a long time. So far as Kim could gather, he
was to be diligent and enter the Survey of India as
a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed
the proper examinations, he would be earning
thirty rupees a month at seventeen years old, and
Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitable
employment.
Kim pretended at first to understand perhaps
one word in three of this talk. Then the Colonel,
seeing his mistake, turned to fluent and picturesque
Urdu, and Kim was contented. No man could be
a fool who knew the language so intimately, who
moved so gently and silently, and whose eyes were
so different from the dull fat eyes of other
Sahibs.
" Yes, and thou must learn how to make pictures
of roads and mountains and rivers — to carry these
pictures in thy eye till a suitable time comes to set
them upon paper. Perhaps some day, when thou
art a chain-man, I may say to thee when we are
working together : 'Go across those hills and see
what lies beyond.' Then one will say : ' There
193
KIM
are bad people living in those hills who will slay
the chain-man if he be seen to look like a Sahib.'
What then?"
Kim thought. Would it be safe to return the
Colonel's lead ?
" I would tell what that other man had said."
" But if I answered : 'I will give thee a hundred
rupees for knowledge of what is behind those hills
— for a picture of a river and a little news of what
the people say in the villages there ' ? "
" How can I tell ? I am only a boy. Wait till
I am a man." Then, seeing the Colonel's brow
clouded, he went on : " But I think I should in a
few days earn the hundred rupees."
" By what road ? "
Kim shook his head resolutely. " If I said
how I would earn them, another man might hear
and forestall me. It is no good to sell knowledge
for nothing."
" Tell now." The Colonel held up a rupee.
Kim's hand half reached towards it, and dropped.
"Nay, Sahib; nay. I know the price that will
be paid for the answer, but I do not know why the
question is asked."
" Take it for a gift, then," said Creighton, toss-
ing it over. " There is a good spirit in thee. Do
not let it be blunted at St. Xavier's. There are
many boys there who despise the black men."
" Their mothers were bazar-women," said Kim.
194
KIM
He knew well there is no hatred like that of the
half-caste for his brother-in-law.
" True ; but thou art a Sahib and the son of a
Sahib. Therefore, do not at any time be led to
contemn the black men. I have known boys
newly entered into the service of the Government
who feigned not to understand the talk or the
customs of black men. Their pay was cut for
ignorance. There is no sin so great as ignorance.
Remember this."
Several times in the course of the long twenty-
four hours' run south did the Colonel send for Kim,
always developing this latter text.
" We be all on one lead-rope, then," said Kim
at last, " the Colonel, Mahbub Ali, and I — when
I become a chain-man. He will use me as Mahbub
Ali employed me, I think. That is good, if it
allows me to return to the road again. This cloth-
ing grows no easier by wear."
When they came to the crowded Lucknow
station there was no sign of the lama. He
swallowed his disappointment, while the Colonel
bundled him into a ticca-garri with his neat
belongings and despatched him alone to St.
Xavier's.
" I do not say farewell, because we shall meet
again," he cried. "Again, and many times, if
thou art one of good spirit. But thou art not yet
tried."
195
KIM
"Not when I brought thee" — Kim actually dared
to use the tvm of equals — "a white stallion's pedi-
gree that night ? "
" Much is gained by forgetting, little brother,"
said the Colonel, with a look that pierced through
Kim's shoulder-blades as he scuttled into the
carriage.
It took him nearly five minutes to recover.
Then he sniffed the new air appreciatively. " A
rich city," he said. " Richer than Lahore. How
good the bazars must be. Coachman, drive me a
little through the bazars here."
" My order is to take thee to the school," The
driver used the " thou," which is rudeness when
applied to a white man. In the clearest and most
fluent vernacular Kim pointed out his error, climbed
on to the box-seat, and, perfect understanding
established, drove for a couple of hours up and
down, estimating, comparing, and enjoying. There
is no city — except Bombay, the queen of all —
more beautiful in her garish style than Lucknow,
whether you see her from the bridge over the river,
or from the top of the Imambara looking down on
the gilt umbrellas of the Chutter Munzil, and the
trees in which the town is bedded. Kings have
adorn&d her with fantastic buildings, endowed
her with charities, crammed her with pensioners,
and drenched her with blood. She is the centre
of all idleness, intrigue, and luxury, and shares
196
KIM
with Delhi the claim to talk the only pure
Urdu.
" A fair city — a beautiful city." The driver, as
a Lucknow man, was pleased with the compliment,
and told Kim many astounding things where
an English guide would have talked of the
Mutiny.
" Now we will go to the school," said Kim at
last. The great old school of St. Xavier's in
Partibus, block on block of low white buildings,
stands in vast grounds over against the Gumti
River, at some distance from the city.
" What like of folk are they within ? " said Kim.
" Young Sahibs — all devils; but to speak truth,
and I drive many of them to and fro from the
railway station, I have never seen one that had in
him the making of a more perfect devil than thou
— this young Sahib whom I am now driving."
Naturally, for he was never trained to consider
them in any way improper, Kim had passed the
time of day with one or two frivolous ladies at
upper windows in a certain street, and naturally,
in the exchange of compliments, had acquitted
himself well. He was about to acknowledge the
driver's last insolence, when his eye — it was grow-
ing dusk — caught a figure sitting by one of the
white plaster gate-pillars in the long sweep of wall.
" Stop I " he cried. " Stay here. I do not go to
the school at once."
197
KIM
"But what is to pay me for this coming and
recoming ^ " said the driver petulantly. " Is the
boy mad *? Last time it was a dancing-girl. This
time it is a priest."
Kim was in the road headlong, patting the dusty
feet beneath the dirty yellow robe.
" I have waited here a day and a half," the
lama's level voice began. " Nay, I had a disciple
with me. He that was my friend at the Temple
of the Tirthankers gave me a guide for this journey.
I came from Benares in the train, when thy letter
was given me. Yes, I am well fed. I need
nothing."
"But why didst thou not stay with the Kulu
woman, O Holy One *? In what way didst thou
get to Benares*? My heart has been heavy since
we parted."
" The woman wearied me by constant flux of
talk, and requiring charms for children. I separated
myself from that company, permitting her to acquire
merit by gifts. She is at least a woman of open
hands, and I made a promise to return to her house
if need arose. Then, perceiving myself alone in
this great and terrible world, I bethought me of
the te-rain to Benares, where I knew one abode in
the Tirthankers' Temple who was a Seeker, even
as I."
"Ah ! Thy River," said Kim. " I had forgotten
the River."
198
KIM
" So soon, my chela ? I have never forgotten
it ; but when I had left thee it seemed better that
I should go to the temple and take counsel, for,
look you, India is very large, and it may be that
wise men before us, some two or three, have left a
record of the place of our River. There is debate
in the Temple of the Tirthankers on this matter ;
some saying one thing, and some another. They
are courteous folk."
" So be it; but what dost thou do now ? "
" I acquire merit in that I help thee, my chela^
to wisdom. The priest of that body of men who
serve the Red Bull wrote me that all should be as
I desired for thee. I sent the money to suffice for
one year, and then I came, as thou seest me, to watch
for thee going up into the Gates of Learning. A
day and a half have I waited — not because I was
led by any affection towards thee — that is no part
of the Way — but, as they said at the Tirthankers'
Temple, because, money having been paid for
learning, it was right that I should oversee the end
of the matter. They resolved my doubts most
clearly. I had a fear that, perhaps, I came because
I wished to see thee — misguided by the red mist
of affection. It is not so. . . . Moreover, I am
troubled by a dream."
" But surely. Holy One, thou hast not forgotten
the road and all that befell on it. Surely it was a
little to see me that thou didst come ? "
199
KIM
" The horses are cold, and it is past their feeding-
time," whined the driver.
"Go to Jehannum and abide there with thy
reputationless aunt!" Kim snarled over his shoulder.
"I am all alone in this land; I know not where I
go nor what shall befall me. My heart was in
that letter I sent thee. Except for Mahbub Ali,
and he is a Pathan, I have no friend save thee,
Holy One. Do not altogether go away."
" I have considered that also," the lama replied,
in a shaking voice. " It is manifest that from time
to time I shall acquire merit — if before that I have
not found my River — by assuring myself that thy
feet are set on wisdom. What they will teach
thee I do not know, but the priest wrote me that
no son of a Sahib in all India will be better taught
than thou. So from time to time, therefore, I
will come again. Maybe thou wilt be such a Sahib
as he who gave me these spectacles" — the lama
wiped them elaborately — " in the Wonder House
at Lahore. That is my hope, for he was a Foun-
tain of Wisdom — wiser than many abbots. . . .
Again, maybe thou wilt forget me and our meet-
ings,"
" If I eat thy bread," cried Kim passionately,
" how shall I ever forget thee ? "
"No — no." He put the boy aside. "I must
go back to Benares. From time to time, now
that I know the customs of letter-writers in this
200
KIM
land, I will send thee a letter, and from time to
time I will come and see thee."
"But whither shall I send my letters'?" wailed
Kim, clutching at the robe, all forgetful that he
was a Sahib.
"To the Temple of the Tirthankers at Benares.
That is the place I have chosen till I find my
River. Do not weep; for, look, you, all Desire is
illusion and a new binding upon the Wheel. Go
up to the Gates of Learning. Let me see thee go.
. . . Dost thou love me *? Then go, or my heart
cracks. ... I will come again. Surely I will
come again."
The lama watched the ticca-garri rumble into
the compound, and strode off, snuffing between
each long stride.
" The Gates of Learning " shut with a clang.
The country-born and bred boy has his own
manners and customs, which do not resemble those
of any other land; and his teachers approach him
by roads which an English master would not
understand. Therefore, you would scarcely be
interested in Kim's experiences as a St. Xavier's
boy among two or three hundred precocious youths,
most of whom had never seen the sea. He suffered
the usual penalties for breaking out of bounds when
there was cholera in the city. This was before
he had learned to write fair English, and so was
201
KIM
obliged to find a bazar letter-writer. He was, of
course, indicted for smoking and for the use of
abuse more full-flavoured than even St. Xavier's
had ever heard. He learned to wash himself with
the Levitical scrupulosity of the native-born, who
in his heart considers the Englishman rather dirty.
He played the usual tricks on the patient coolies
pulling the punkahs in the sleeping-rooms where
the boys thrashed through the hot nights telling
tales till the dawn ; and quietly he measured him-
self against his self-reliant mates.
They were sons of subordinate officials in the
Railway, Telegraph, and Canal services ; of war-
rant-officers, sometimes retired and sometimes act-
ing as commanders-in-chief to a feudatory Rajah's
army; of captains of the Indian Marine, Govern-
ment pensioners, planters, Presidency shopkeepers,
and missionaries. A few were cadets of the old
Eurasian houses that have taken strong root in
Dhurrumtollah — Pereiras, De Souzas, and D'Sil-
vas. Their parents could well have educated them
in England, but they loved the school that had
served their own youth, and generation followed
sallow-hued generation at St. Xavier's. Their
homes ranged from Howrah of the railway people
to abandoned cantonments like Monghyr and
Chunar; lost tea-gardens Shillong-way; villages
where their fathers were large landholders in Oudh
or the Deccan; Mission-stations a week from the
202
KIM
nearest railway line ; seaports a thousand miles south,
facing the brazen Indian surf; and cinchona-plan-
tations south of all. The mere story of their adven-
tures, which to them were no adventures, on their
road to and from school would have crisped a
Western boy's hair. They were used to jogging
off alone through a hundred miles of jungle, where
there was always the delightful chance of being
delayed by tigers; but they would no more have
bathed in the English Channel in an English Au-
gust than their brothers across the world would
have lain still while a leopard snuffed at their
palanquin. There were boys of fifteen who had
spent a day and a half on an islet in the middle of
a flooded river, taking charge, as by right, of a
camp of frantic pilgrims returning from a shrine ;
there were seniors who had requisitioned a chance-
met Rajah's elephant, in the name of St. Francis
Xavier, when the rains once blotted out the cart-
track that led to their father's estate, and had all
but lost the huge beast in a quicksand. There
was a boy who, he said, and none doubted, had
helped his father to beat off with rifles from the
verandah a rush of Akas in the days when those
head-hunters were bold against lonely plantations.
And every tale was told in the even, passionless
voice of the native-born, mixed with quaint reflec-
tions, borrowed unconsciously from native foster-
mothers, and turns of speech that showed they had
203
KIM
been that instant translated from the vernacular.
Kim watched, listened, and approved. This was
not insipid, single-word talk of drummer-boys. It
dealt with a life he knew and in part understood.
The atmosphere suited him, and he throve by-
inches. They gave him a white drill suit as the
weather warmed, and he rejoiced in the new-found
bodily comforts as he rejoiced to use his sharp-
ened mind over the tasks they set him. His
quickness would have delighted an English mas-
ter ; but at St. Xavier's they know the first rush of
minds developed by sun and surroundings, as they
know the half-collapse that sets in at twenty-two
or twenty-three.
None the less he remembered to hold himself
lowly. When tales were told of hot nights, Kim
did not sweep the board with his reminiscences; for
St. Xavier's looks down on boys who " go native
altogether." One must never forget that one is a
Sahib, and that some day, when examinations are
passed, one will command natives. Kim made a
note of this, for he began to understand where
examinations led.
Then came the holidays from August to Octo-
ber— the long holidays imposed by the heat and
the rains. Kim was informed that he would
go north to some station in the hills behind Um-
balla, where Father Victor would arrange for him.
" A barrack school ? " said Kim, who had asked
many questions and thought more.
204
KIM
" Yes, I suppose so," said the master. " It will
not do you any harm to keep you out of mischief.
You can go up with young De Castro as far as Delhi."
Kim considered it in every possible light. He
had been diligent, even as the Colonel advised. A
boy's holiday was his own property, — of so much
the talk of his companions had advised him, — and
a barrack school would be torment after St. Xa-
vier's. Moreover — this was magic worth anything
else — he could write. In three months he had
discovered how men can speak to each other with-
out a third party, at the cost of half an anna
and a little knowledge. No word had come from
the lama, but there remained the Road. Kim
yearned for the caress of soft mud squishing up
between the toes, as his mouth watered for mutton
stewed with butter and cabbages, for rice speckled
with strong-scented cardamoms, for the saffron-
tinted rice, garlic and onions, and the forbidden
greasy sweetmeats of the bazars. They would
feed him raw beef on a platter at the barrack
school, and he must smoke by stealth. But again,
he was a Sahib and was at St. Xavier's, and that
pig Mahbub Ali . . . No, he would not test Mah-
bub's hospitality — and yet . . . He thought it out
alone in the dormitory, and came to the conclusion
he had been unjust to Mahbub.
The school was empty ; nearly all the masters
had gone away; Colonel Creighton's railway pass
lay in his hand, and Kim puffed himself that he
205
KIM
had not spent Colonel Creighton's or Mahbub's
money in riotous living. He was still lord of two
rupees seven annas. His new bullock-trunk,
marked "K. O'H.," and bedding-roll lay in the
empty sleeping-room. "Sahibs are always tied to
their baggage," said Kim, nodding at them.
" You will stay here." He went out into the
warm rain, smiling sinfully, and sought a certain
house whose outside he had noted down some time
before. . . .
" Arre I Dost thou know what manner of
women we be in this quarter *? O shame I "
"Was I born yesterday?" Kim squatted native
fashion on the cushions of that upper room. " A
little dye-stuff and three yards of cloth to help out
a jest. Is it much to ask? "
" Who is she? Thou art full young, as Sahibs
go, for this devilry."
"Oh, she? She is the daughter of a certain
schoolmaster of a regiment in the cantonments.
He has beaten me twice because I went over their
wall in these clothes. Now I would go as a gar-
dener's boy. Old men are very jealous."
" That is true. Hold thy face still while I dab
on the juice."
"Not too black, Naikan. I would not appear to
her as a huhshi (nigger)."
" Oh, love makes nought of these things. And
how old is she ? "
206
KIM
" Twelve years, I think," said the shameless
Kim. " Spread it also on the breast. It may be
her father will tear my clothes off me and if I am
piebald — " he laughed.
The girl worked busily, dabbing a twist of cloth
into a little saucer of brown dye that holds longer
than any walnut juice.
" Now send out and get me a cloth for the tur-
ban. Woe is me, my head is all unshaved I And
he will surely knock off my turban."
" I am not a barber, but I will make shift.
Thou wast born to be a breaker of hearts I All
this disguise for one evening "? Remember, the
stuff does not wash away." She shook with laugh-
ter till her bracelets and anklets jingled. " But
who is to pay me for this ? Huneefa herself
could not have given thee better stuff."
" Trust in the Gods, my sister," said Kim gravely,
screwing his face round as the stain dried. "Be-
sides, hast thou ever helped to paint a Sahib thus
before ? "
" Never indeed. But a jest is not money."
" It is worth much more."
" Child, thou art beyond all dispute the most
shameless son of Shaitan that I have ever known
to take up a poor girl's time with this play, and
then to say : ' Is not the jest enough ? ' Thou
wilt go very far in this world." She gave the
dancing-girls' salutation in mockery.
207
KIM
" All one. Make haste and rough-cut my head."
Kim shifted from foot to foot, his eyes ablaze
with mirth as he thought of the fat days before
him. He gave the girl four annas, and ran down
the stairs in the likeness of a low-caste Hindu boy
— perfect in every detail, A cookshop was his
next point of call, where he feasted in extrava-
gance and greasy luxury.
On Lucknow station platform he watched young
De Castro, all covered with prickly-heat, get into
a second-class compartment, Kim patronised a
third, and was the life and soul of it. He ex-
plained to the company that he was assistant to a
juggler who had left him behind sick with fever,
and that he would pick up his master at Umballa.
As the occupants of the carriage changed, he varied
this tale, or adorned it with all the shoots of a bud-
ding fancy, the more rampant for being held off
native speech so long. In all India that night
was no human being so joyful as Kim. At Um-
balla he got out and headed eastward, plashing
over the sodden fields to the village where the old
soldier lived.
About this time Colonel Creighton at Simla was
advised from Lucknow by wire that young O'Hara
had disappeared, Mahbub Ali was in town selling
horses, and to him the Colonel confided the affair
one morning cantering round Annandale race-
course.
208
KIM
"Oh, that is nothing," said the horse-dealer.
" Men are Hke horses. At certain times they
need salt, and if that salt is not in the mangers
they will lick it up from the earth. He has gone
back to the Road again for awhile. The madris-
sah wearied him. I knew it would. Another
time, I will take him upon the Road myself Do
not be troubled, Creighton Sahib. It is as though
a polo-pony, breaking loose, ran out to learn the
game alone."
" Then he is not dead, think you ? "
." Fever might kill him. I do not fear for the
boy otherwise. A monkey does not fall among
trees."
Next morning, on the same course, Mahbub's
stallion ranged alongside the Colonel.
"It is as I had thought," said the horse-dealer.
" He has come through Umballa at least, and
there he has written a letter to me, having learned
in the bazar that I was here."
" Read," said the Colonel, with a sigh of relief
It was absurd that a man of his position should
take an interest in a little country-bred vagabond ;
but the Colonel remembered the conversation in
the train, and often in the past itw months had
caught himself thinking of the queer, silent, self-
possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the
height of insolence, but it argued some resource
and nerve.
209
KIM
Mahbub's eyes twinkled as he reined out into
the centre of the cramped little plain, where none
could come near unseen.
" ' I'be Friend of the Stars, who ?s the Friend of all
the IVorld—' "
" What is this ? "
" A name we give him in Lahore city. ' l^he
Friend of all the IVorld takes leave to go to his awn
places. He will co?ne back upon the appointed day.
Let the box and the bedding-roll be sent for; and if
there has been a faulty let the Hand of Friendship turn
aside the Whip of Calamity* There is yet a little
more, but — "
" No matter, read."
" ' Certain things are not known to those who eat
with forks. It is better to eat with both hands for
awhile. Speak soft words to those who do not under-
stand this, that the return may be propitious' Now
the manner in which that was cast is of course the
work of the letter-writer, but see how wisely the
boy has devised the matter of it so that no hint is
given except to those who know I "
" Is this the Hand of Friendship to avert the
Whip of Calamity *? " laughed the Colonel.
" See how wise is the boy. He would go back
to the Road again, as I said. Not knowing yet
thy trade — "
" I am not quite sure of that," the Colonel
muttered.
210
KIM
" He turns to me to make a peace between you.
Is he not wise? He says he will return. He is
but perfecting his knowledge. Think, SahibI He
has been three months at the school. And he is
not mouthed to that bit. For my part, I rejoice :
the pony learns the game."
" Ay, but another time he must not go alone."
" Why ? He went alone before he came under
the Colonel Sahib's protection. When he comes
to the Great Game he must go alone — alone, and
at peril of his head. T^hen^ if he spits, or sneezes,
or sits down other than as the people do whom he
watches, he may be slain. Why hinder him now?
Remember how the Persians say : The jackal that
lives in the wilds of Mazanderan can only be
caught by the hounds of Mazanderan."
" True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he
comes to no harm, I do not desire anything better.
But it is great insolence on his part."
" He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,"
said Mahbub. " He is no fool. When his time is
accomplished he will come to me. It is time the
healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too
quickly — as Sahibs reckon."
This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a
month later. Mahbub had gone down to Umballa
to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and
Kim met him on the Kalka road at dusk riding
alone, begged an alms of him, was sworn at,
211
KIM
and replied in English. There was nobody within
earshot to hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement.
" Oho ! And where hast thou been *? "
" Up and down — down and up."
" Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell."
" I stayed for awhile with an old man near
Umballa ; anon with a household of my acquain-
tance in Umballa. With one of these I went as
far as Delhi to the southward. That is a wondrous
city. Then I drove a bullock for a teli (an oilman)
coming north; but I heard of a great feast forward
in Patiala, and thither went I in the company of a
firework-maker. It was a great feast " (Kim rubbed
his stomach). " I saw Rajahs, and elephants with
gold and silver trappings ; and they lit all the
fireworks at once, whereby eleven men were killed,
my firework-maker among them, and I was blown
across a tent but took no harm. Then I came back
to the rel with a Sikh horseman, to whom I was
groom for my bread ; and so here."
" Shabash ! " said Mahbub Ali.
" But what does the Colonel Sahib say ? I do
not wish to be beaten."
" The Hand of Friendship has averted the Whip
of Calamity; but another time, when thou takest
the Road it will be with me. This is too early."
" Late enough for me. I have learned to read
and to write English a little at the madrissah. I
shall soon be altogether a Sahib."
212
KIM
" Hear him I " laughed Mahbub, looking at the
little drenched figure dancing in the wet. '' Salaam
— Sahib," and he saluted ironically. " Well, art
tired of the Road, or wilt thou come on to Umballa
with me and work back with the horses *? "
" I come with thee, Mahbub Ali."
213
VIII
Something I owe to the soil that grew —
More to the life that fed —
But most to Allah Who gave me two
Separate sides to my head.
I would go without shirts or shoes.
Friends, tobacco or bread
Sooner than for an instant lose
Either side of my head.
" Then in God's Name take blue for red," said
Mahbub, alluding to the Hindu colour of Kim's
disreputable turban.
Kim countered with the old proverb, " I will
change my faith and my bedding, but thou must
pay for it."
The dealer laughed till he nearly fell from his
horse. At a shop on the outskirts of the city the
change was made, and Kim stood up, externally at
least, a Mohammedan.
Mahbub hired a room over against the railway
station, sent for a cooked meal of the finest, with
almond-curd sweetmeats (balushai we call it) and
fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.
214
KIM
" This is better than some other meat that I ate
with the Sikh," said Kim, grinning as he squatted,
"and assuredly they give no such victuals at my
madrissah"
" I have a desire to hear of that same ?nadrissah"
Mahbub stuffed himself with great boluses of
spiced mutton fried in fat with cabbage and golden-
brown onions. " But tell me first, altogether and
truthfully, the manner of thy escape. For, O
Friend of all the World," — he loosed his cracking
belt, — " I do not think it is often that a Sahib and
the son of a Sahib runs away from there."
" How should they ? They do not know the
land. It was nothing," said Kim, and began his
tale. When he came to the disguisement and the
interview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub All's
gravity went from him. He laughed aloud and
beat his hand on his thigh,
'•''Shabash! Shabash ! Oh, well done, little one !
What will the healer of turquoises say to this?
Now, slowly, let us hear what befell afterwards —
step by step, omitting nothing."
Step by step then, Kim told his adventures be-
tween coughs as the full-flavoured tobacco caught
his lungs.
" I said," growled Mahbub Ali to himself, " I
said it was the pony breaking out to play polo.
The fruit is ripe already — except that he must
learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods
215
KIM
and his compasses. Listen now. I have turned
aside the Colonel's whip from thy skin, and that is
no small service."
"True." Kim puffed serenely. "That is all
true."
" But it is not to be thought that this running
out and in is any way good."
" It was my holiday, Hajji. I was a slave for
many weeks. Why should I not run away when
the school was shut? Look, too, how I, living
upon my friends or working for my bread, as I
did with the Sikh, have saved the Colonel Sahib a
great expense."
Mahbub's lips twitched under his well-pruned
Mohammedan moustache.
" What are a few rupees " — the Pathan threw
out his open hand carelessly — "to the Colonel
Sahib *? He spends them for a purpose, not in any
way for love of thee."
" That," said Kim slowly, " I knew a very long
time ago."
"Who told?"
" The Colonel Sahib himself Not in those many
words, but plainly enough for one who is not
altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me in the
te-rain when we went down to Lucknow."
" Be it so. Then I will tell thee more, Friend
of all the World, though in the telling I lend thee
my head."
216
KIM
" It was forfeit to me," said Kim, with deep
relish, " in Umballa, when thou didst pick me up
on the horse after the drummer-boy beat me."
" Speak a little plainer. All the world may tell
lies save thou and I. For equally is thy life forfeit
to me if I chose to raise my finger here."
"And this is known to me also," said Kim,
readjusting the live charcoal-ball on the weed.
" It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed thy
hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss
a boy beaten to death, or, it may be, thrown into a
well by the roadside *? Many people here and in
Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would,
on the other hand, say : ' What has come to
Mahbub Ali ? ' if he were found dead among his
horses. Surely too the Colonel Sahib would make
inquiries. But again," — Kim's face puckered with
cunning, — " he would not make overlong inquiry,
lest people should ask : ' What has this Colonel
Sahib to do with that horse-dealer ? ' But I — if
I lived—"
" As thou wouldst surely die — "
" It may be ; but I say, if I lived, I, and I alone,
would know that one had come by night, as a
common thief perhaps, to Mahbub Ali's bulkhead
in the serai, and there had slain him, either before
or after that thief had made a full search into his
saddle-bags and between the soles of his slippers.
Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would
217
KIM
he say to me — (I have not forgotten when he
sent me back for a cigar-case that he had not left
behind him) — 'What is Mahbub Ali to me?'"
Up went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a
long pause ; then Mahbub Ali spoke in admira-
tion : " And with these things on thy mind, dost
thou lie down and rise again among all the Sahibs'
little sons at the madrissah and meekly take in-
struction from thy teachers ? "
"It is an order," said Kim blandly. " Who am
I to dispute an order *? "
"A most finished son of Eblis," said Mahbub
Ali. " But what is this tale of the thief and the
search *? "
"That which I saw," said Kim, " the night that
my lama and I lay next thy place in the Kashmir
Serai. The door was left unlocked, which I think
is not thy custom, Mahbub. He came in as one
assured that thou wouldst not soon return. My eye
was against a knot-hole in the plank. He searched
as it were for something — not a rug, not stirrups,
nor a bridle, nor brass pots — something little and
most carefully hid. Else why did he prick with
an iron between the soles of thy slippers ? "
"Ha!" Mahbub Ali smiled gently. "And
seeing these things, what tale didst thou fashion to
thyself. Well of the Truth ? "
" None. I put my hand upon my amulet,
which lies always next to my skin, and, remem-
218
KIM
bering the pedigree of a white stallion that I had
bitten out of a piece of Mussalmani bread, I went
away to Umballa perceiving that a heavy trust
was laid upon me. At that hour, had I chosen,
thy head was forfeit. It needed only to say to that
man, ' I have here a paper concerning a horse
which I cannot read.' And then*?" Kim peered
at Mahbub under his eyebrows.
"Then thou wouldst have drunk, water twice —
perhaps thrice, afterwards. I do not think more
than thrice," said Mahbub simply.
" It is true. I thought of that a little, but most
I thought that I loved thee, Mahbub. Therefore
I went to Umballa, as thou knowest, but (and this
thou dost not know) I lay hid in the garden-grass
to see what Colonel Creighton Sahib might do
upon reading the white stallion's pedigree."
"And what did he"?" for Kim had bitten off the
conversation.
" Dost thou give news for love, or dost thou sell
it % " Kim asked.
" I sell and — I buy." Mahbub took a four-anna
piece out of his belt and held it up.
" Eight I " said Kim, mechanically following the
huckster instinct of the East.
Mahbub laughed, and put away the coin. " It
is too easy to deal in that market, Friend of all the
World. Tell me for love. Our lives lie in each
other's hand."
219
KIM
" Very good. I saw the Jang-i-Lat Sahib come
to a big dinner. I saw him in Creighton Sahib's
office. I saw the two read the white staUion's pedi-
gree. I heard the very orders given for the opening
of a great war."
" Hah ! " Mahbub nodded with deepest eyes
afire. " The game is well played. That war is
done now, and the evil, we hope, nipped before the
flower — thanks to me — and thee. What didst thou
later?"
" I made the news as it were a hook to catch
me victual and honour among the villagers in a
village whose priest drugged my lama. But I
bore away the old man's purse, and the Brahmin
found nothing. So next morning he was angry.
Ho I Ho ! And I also used the news when I
fell into the hands of that white regiment with
their Bull ! "
" That was foolishness." Mahbub scowled.
" News is not meant to be thrown about like dung-
cakes, but used sparingly — like bhang"
" So I think now, and moreover, it did me no
sort of good. But that was very long ago," — he
made as to brush it all away with a thin brown
hand, — " and since then, and especially in the
nights under the punkah at the ?/iadrissah, I have
thought very greatly."
" Is it permitted to ask whither the Heaven-
born's thought might have led ? " said Mahbub,
220
KIM
with an elaborate sarcasm, smoothing his scarlet
beard.
" It is permitted," said Kim, and threw back
the very tone. " They say at Nucklao that no
Sahib must tell a black man that he has made
a fault."
Mahbub's hand shot into his bosom, for to call a
Pathan a "black man" (kala admi) is a blood-insult.
Then he remembered and laughed. " Speak, Sahib:
thy black man hears."
" But," said Kim, " I am not a Sahib, and I say I
made a fault when I cursed thee, Mahbub Ali, on
the day at Umballa I thought I was betrayed by
a Pathan. I was senseless; for I was but newly
caught, and I wished to kill that low-caste drum-
mer-boy. I say now, Hajji, that it was well
done ; and I see my road all clear before me to
a good service. I will stay in the madrissah till I
am ripe."
" Well said. Especially are distances and num-
bers and the manner of using compasses to be
learned in that game. One waits in the Hills above
to show thee."
" I will learn their teaching upon a condition —
that my time is given to me without question when
the madrissah is shut. Ask that for me of the
Colonel."
" But why not ask the Colonel in the Sahib's
tongue *? "
221
KIM
" The Colonel is the servant of the Government.
He is sent hither and yon at a word, and must
consider his own advancement. (See how much
I have already learned at Nucklao I) Moreover,
the Colonel I know since three months only. I
have known one Mahbub Ali for six years. Sol
To the madrissah I will go. At the tnadrissah
I will learn. In the madrissah I will be a
Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then
must I be free and go among my people. Other-
wise I die*?"
"And who are thy people, Friend of all the
World?"
" This great and beautiful land," said Kim,
waving his paw round the little clay-walled room
where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily
through the tobacco-smoke. " And further, I
would see my lama again. And further, I need
money."
" That is the need of every one," said Mahbub
ruefully. " I will give thee eight annas, for much
money is not picked out of horses' hooves, and it
must suffice for many days. As to all the rest, I am
well pleased, and no further talk is needed. Make
haste to learn, and in three years, or it may be less,
thou wilt be an aid — even to me."
" Have I been such a hindrance till now "? " said
Kim, with a boy's giggle.
"Do not give answers," Mahbub grunted.
222
KIM
" Thou art my new horse-boy. Go and bed among
my men. They are near the north end of the sta-
tion, with the horses."
" They will beat me to the south end of the sta-
tion if I come without authority."
Mahbub felt in his belt, wetted his thumb on a
cake of Chinese ink, and dabbed the impression on
a piece of soft native paper. From Balkh to Bom-
bay men know that rough-ridged print with the old
scar running diagonally across it.
" That is enough to show my headman. I come
in the morning."
" By which road ? " said Kim.
" By the road from the City. There is but one.
And then we return to Creighton Sahib. I have
saved thee a beating."
" Allah ! What is a beating when the very head
is loose on the shoulders ? "
Kim slid out quietly into the night, walked half
round the house, keeping close to the walls, and
headed away from the station for a mile or so.
Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at
leisure, for he needed time to invent a story if any
of Mahbub's retainers asked questions.
They were camped on a piece of waste ground
beside the railway, and, being natives, had not,
of course, unloaded the two trucks in which
Mahbub's animals stood among a consignment of
country-breds bought by the Bombay tram-com-
223
KIM
pany. The headman, a broken-down, consump-
tive-looking Mohammedan, promptly challenged
Kim, but was pacified at sight of Mahbub's sign-
manual.
" The Hajji has of his favour given me service,"
said Kim testily. " If this be doubted, wait till
he comes in the morning. Meantime, a place by
the fire."
Followed the usual aimless babble that every
low-caste native must raise on every occasion. It
died down, and Kim lay out behind the little knot
of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels
of a horse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering.
Now a bed among brickbats and ballast-refuse on
a damp night, between overcrowded horses and
unwashen Baltis, would not appeal to many white
boys; but Kim was utterly happy. Change of
scene, service, and surroundings were the breath of
his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white
cots of St. Xavier's all arow under the punkah
gave him joy as keen as the repetition of the mul-
tiplication-table in English.
" I am very old," he thought sleepily. " Every
month I become a year more old. I was very
young, and a fool to boot, when I took Mahbub's
message to Umballa. Even when I was with that
white regiment I was very young and small and
had no wisdom. But now I learn every day, and
in three years the Colonel will take me out of the
224
KIM
madrissah and let me go upon the Road with Mah-
bub hunting for horses' pedigrees, or maybe I shall
go by myself; or maybe I shall find the lama and
go with him. Yes; that is best. To walk again
as a chela with my lama when he comes back to
Benares." The thoughts came more slowly and
disconnectedly. He was plunging into a beauti-
ful dreamland when his ears caught a whisper,
thin and sharp, above the monotonous babble
round the fire. It came from behind the iron-
skinned horse-truck.
"He is not here then?"
" Where should he be but roystering in the City?
Who looks for a rat in a frog-pond ? Come away.
He is not our man."
"He must not go back beyond the Passes a
second time. It is the order."
" Hire some woman to drug him. It is a few
rupees only, and there is no evidence."
"Except the woman. It must be more certain;
and remember the price upon his head."
" Ay, but the police have a long arm, and we
are far from the Border. If it were in Peshawur
now I "
" Yes — in Peshawur," the second voice sneered.
"Peshawur, fall of his blood-kin — full of bolt-
holes and women behind whose clothes he will
hide. Yes, Peshawur or Jehannum would suit us
equally well."
225
KIM
" Then what is the plan '^ "
"O fool, have I not told it a hundred times?
Wait till he comes to lie down, and then one sure
shot. The trucks are between us and pursuit. We
have but to run back, over the lines and go our
way. They will not see whence the shot came.
Wait here at least till the dawn. What manner
o{ faquir art thou to shiver at a little watching'?"
" Oho ! " thought Kim, behind close-shut eyes.
" Once again it is Mahbub. Indeed a white stal-
lion's pedigree is not a good thing to peddle to
Sahibs ! Or maybe Mahbub has been selling
other news. Now what is to do, Kim ? I know
not where Mahbub houses, and if he comes here
before the dawn they will shoot him. That would
be no profit for thee, Kim. And this is not a mat-
ter for the police. That would be no profit for
Mahbub ; and," he giggled almost aloud, " I do
not remember any lesson at Nucklao which will
help me. Allah I Here is Kim and yonder are
they. First then, Kim must wake and go away, so
that they shall not suspect. A bad dream wakes
a man — thus — "
He threw the blanket off his face, and raised
himself suddenly with the terrible, bubbling, mean-
ingless yell of the Asiatic roused by nightmare.
" Urr-urr-urr-urr I Ya-la-la-la-la ! Narain 1 The
churel! The churel! "
A churel is the peculiarly malignant ghost of a
226
KIM
woman who has died in child-bed. She haunts
lonely roads, her feet are turned backwards on the
ankles, and she leads men to torment.
Louder rose Kim's quavering howl, till at last
he leaped to his feet and staggered off sleepily,
while the camp cursed him for waking them.
Some twenty yards farther up the line he lay down
again, taking care that the whisperers should hear
his grunts and groans as he recomposed himself
After a few minutes he rolled towards the road and
stole away into the thick darkness.
He paddled along swiftly till he came to a cul-
vert, and dropped behind it, his chin on a level
with the coping-stone. Here he could command
all the night-traffic, himself unseen.
Two or three carts passed, jingling out to the
suburbs; a coughing policeman and a hurrying
foot-passenger or two who sang to keep off evil
spirits. Then rapped the shod feet of a horse.
" Ah ! This is more like Mahbub," thought
Kim, as the beast shied at the little head above the
culvert.
"Ohe, Mahbub Ali," he whispered, "have a
care ! "
The horse was reined back almost on its
haunches, and forced towards the culvert.
" Never again," said Mahbub, " will I take a
shod horse for night-work. They pick up all the
bones and nails in the city." He stooped to lift
227
KIM
its forefoot, and that brought his head within a foot
of Kim's. "Down — keep down," he muttered.
" The night is full of eyes."
" Two men wait thy coming behind the horse-
trucks. They will shoot thee at thy lying down,
because there is a price on thy head. I heard,
sleeping near the horses."
" Didst thou see them ? . . . Hold still, Sire of
Devils ! " This furiously to the horse.
" No."
"Was one dressed belike as z faquir?'"
" One said to the other, ' What manner of a
faquir art thou to shiver at a little watching? ' "
"Good, Go back to the camp and lie down.
I do not die to-night."
Mahbub wheeled his horse and vanished. Kim
tore back down the ditch till he reached a point op-
posite his second resting-place, slipped across the road
like a weasel, and re-coiled himself in the blanket.
" At least Mahbub knows," he thought content-
edly. " And certainly he spoke as one expecting
it. I do not think those two men will profit by
to-night's watch."
An hour passed, and, with the best will in the
world to keep awake all night, he slept deeply.
Now and again a night train roared along the
metals within twenty feet of him; but he had all
the Oriental's indifference to mere noise, and it did
not even weave a dream through his slumber.
228
KIM
Mahbub was anything but asleep. It annoyed
him vehemently that people outside his tribe and
unaffected by his casual amours should pursue him
for the life. His first and natural impulse was to
cross the line lower down, work up again, and,
catching his well-wishers from behind, summarily
slay them. Here, he reflected with sorrow, another
branch of the Government, totally unconnected
with Colonel Creighton, might demand explana-
tions which would be hard to supply; and he knew
that south the Border a perfectly ridiculous fuss is
made about a corpse or so. He had not been
troubled in this way since he sent Kim to Umballa
with the message, and hoped that suspicion had
been finally diverted.
Then a most brilliant notion struck him.
" The English do eternally tell the truth," he
said, "therefore we of this country are eternally
made foolish. By Allah, I will tell the truth to
an Englishman I Of what use is the Government
police if a poor Cabuli be robbed of his horses in
their very trucks'? This is as bad as Peshawurl I
should lay a complaint at the station. Better still,
some young Sahib on the Railway I They are
zealous, and if they catch thieves it is remembered
to their honour."
He tied up his horse outside the station, and
strode on to the platform.
" Hullo, Mahbub AH I " said a young Assistant
229
KIM
District Traffic Superintendent who was waiting
to go down the line — a tall, tow-haired, horsey
youth in dingy white linen. " What are you
doing here *? Selling weeds — eh *? "
" No ; I am not troubled for my horses. I come
to look for Lutuf Ullah. I have a truck-load up
the line. Could any one take them out without
the Railway's knowledge ^ "
" 'Shouldn't think so, Mahbub. You can
claim against us if they do."
" I have seen two men crouching under the
wheels of one of the trucks nearly all the night.
Faquirs do not steal horses, so I gave them no
more thought. I would find Lutuf Ullah, my
partner."
" The deuce you did *? And you didn't bother
your head about it"? 'Pon my word, it's just al-
most as well that I met you. What were they like,
eh?"
" They were only faquirs. They will no more
than take a little grain perhaps from one of the
trucks. There are many up the line. The State
will never miss the dole. I came here seeking for
my partner, Lutuf Ullah — "
" Never mind your partner. Where are your
horse-trucks ? "
"A little to this side of the farthest place where
they make lamps for the trains."
" The signal-box. Yes."
230
KIM
" And upon the rail nearest to the road upon
the right-hand side — looking up the line thus.
But as regards Lutuf UUah — a tall man with a
broken nose, and a Persian greyhound — Aie ! "
The boy had hurried off to wake up a young
and enthusiastic policeman ; for, as he said, the
Railway had suffered much from depredations in
the goods-yard. Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed
beard.
"They will walk in their boots, making a noise,
and then they will wonder why there are no faquirs.
They are very clever boys — Barton Sahib and
Young Sahib."
He waited idly for a few minutes, expecting to
see them hurry up the line girt for action. A light
engine slid through the station, and he caught a
glimpse of young Barton in the cab.
" I did that child an injustice. He is not alto-
gether a fool," said Mahbub Ali. " To take a fire-
carriage for a thief is a new game ! "
When Mahbub Ali came to his camp in the
dawn, no one thought it worth while to tell him
any news of the night. No one, at least, but one
small horse-boy, newly advanced to the great man's
service, whom Mahbub called to his tiny tent to
assist in some packing.
" It is all known to me," whispered Kim, bend-
ing above saddle-bags. "Two Sahibs came up on
a te-rain. I was running to and fro in the dark on
231
KIM
this side of the trucks as the te-rain moved up and
down slowly. They fell upon two men sitting
under this truck — Hajji, what shall I do with this
lump of tobacco? Wrap it in paper and put it
under the salt-bag? Yes — and struck them down.
But one man struck at a Sahib with 2i faquir's buck's
horn" (Kim meant the conjoined black-buck horns,
which are a faquir's sole temporal weapon) — " the
blood came. So the other Sahib, first smiting his
own man senseless, smote the stabber with a short
gun which had rolled from the first man's hand.
They all raged as though mad together."
Mahbub smiled with heavenly resignation. "Nol
That is not so much deivanee (madness, or a case for
the civil court — the word can be punned upon
both ways) as nizamut (a criminal case). A gun
sayest thou ? Ten good years in jail."
" Then they both lay still, but I think they were
nearly dead when they were put on the te-rain.
Their heads moved thus. And there is much
blood on the line. Come and see ? "
" I have seen blood before. Jail is the sure
place — and assuredly they will give false names,
and assuredly no man will find them for a long
time. They were unfriends of mine. Thy Fate
and mine seem on one string. What a tale for the
healer of pearls ! Now swiftly with the saddle-bags
and the cooking-platter. We will take out the
horses and away to Simla."
232
KIM
Swiftly, — as Orientals understand speed, — with
long explanations, with abuse and windy talk,
carelessly, amid a hundred checks for little things
forgotten, the untidy camp broke up and led the
half-dozen stiff and fretful horses along the Kalka
road in the fresh of the rain-swept dawn. Kim, re-
garded as Mahbub Ali's favourite by all who wished
to stand well with the Pathan, was not called
upon to work. They strolled on by the easi-
est of stages, halting every few hours at a way-
side shelter. Very many Sahibs travel along
the Kalka road ; and, as Mahbub Ali says, every
young Sahib must needs esteem himself a judge
of a horse, and, though he be over head in debt
to the money-lender, must make as if to buy.
That was the reason that Sahib after Sahib, roll-
ing along in a stage-carriage, would stop and open
talk. Some would even descend from their vehi-
cles and feel the horses' legs ; asking inane ques-
tions, or, through sheer ignorance of the vernacular,
grossly insulting the imperturbable trader.
" When first I dealt with Sahibs, and that was
when Colonel Soady Sahib was Governor of Fort
Abazai and flooded the Commissioner's camping-
ground for spite," Mahbub confided to Kim as the
boy filled his pipe under a tree, " I did not know
how greatly they were fools, and this made me
wroth. As thus — " and he told Kim a tale of an
expression, misused in all innocence, that doubled
233
KIM
Kim up with mirth. "Now I see, however," — he
exhaled smoke slowly, — "that it is with them as
with all men — in certain matters they are wise,
and in others most foolish. Very foolish it is to
use the wrong word to a stranger; for though the
heart may be clean of offence, how is the stranger
to know that? He is more like to search truth
with a dagger."
"True. True talk," said Kim solemnly. " Fools
speak of a cat when a woman is brought to bed,
for instance. I have heard them,"
" Therefore, in one situate as thou art, it par-
ticularly behoves thee to remember this with both
kinds of faces. Among Sahibs, never forgetting
thou art a Sahib ; among the folk of Hind, always
remembering thou art — " he paused, with a puzzled
smile.
" What am I ? Mussalman, Hindu, Jain, or
Buddhist'? That is a hard nut."
" Thou art beyond question an unbeliever, and
therefore thou wilt be damned. So says my Law
— or I think it does. But thou art also my Little
Friend of all the World, and I love thee. So says
my heart. This matter of creeds is like horse-flesh.
The wise man knows horses are good — that there
is a profit to be made from all ; and for myself —
but that I am a good Sunni and hate the men of
Tirah — I could believe the same of all the Faiths.
Now manifestly a Kattiwar mare taken from the
234
KIM
sands of her birthplace and removed to the west
of Bengal founders — nor is even a Balkh stallion
(and there are no better horses than those of
Balkh, were they not so heavy in the shoulder)
of any account in the great Northern deserts
beside the snow-camels I have seen. Therefore
I say in my heart the Faiths are like the horses.
Each has merit in its own country,"
" But my lama said altogether a different thing."
" Oh, he is an old dreamer of dreams from Bho-
tiyal. My heart is a little angry, O Friend of all
the World, that thou shouldst see such worth in a
man so little known."
" It is true, Hajji; but that worth do I see; and
to him my heart is drawn."
" And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like hor-
ses. They come and they go against bit or spur.
Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that bay
stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a
horse-fight at every resting-stage, and the dun and
the black will be locked in a little. . . . Now
hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy
heart to see that lama *? "
"It is one part of my bond," said Kim. " If
I do not see him, and if he is taken from me,
I will go out of that uiadrissah in Nucklao, and,
and — once gone, who is to find me again*?"
" It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter
heel-rope than thou." Mahbub nodded his head.
235
KIM
" Do not be afraid." Kim spoke as though he
could have evanished on the moment. "My lama
has said that he will come to see me at the 7na-
drissah — "
"A beggar and his bowl in the presence of those
young Sa — "
" Not all I " Kim cut in with a snort. " Their
eyes are blued and their nails are blackened with
low-caste blood, many of them. Sons of fnetheera-
nees — brothers-in-law to the hhungi (sweeper)."
We need not follow the rest of the pedigree ;
but Kim made his little point clearly and without
heat, chewing a piece of sugar-cane the while.
"Friend of all the World," said Mahbub, push-
ing over the pipe for the boy to clean, "I have
met many men, women, and boys, and not a few
Sahibs. I have never in all my days met such an
imp as thou art."
" And why *? When I always tell thee the
truth."
" Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of
danger to honest men." Mahbub Ali hauled him-
self off the ground, girt in his belt, and went over
to the horses.
"Or sell it?"
There was that in the tone that made Mahbub
halt and turn. " What new devilry •? "
"Eight annas, and I will tell," said Kim, grin-
ning. " It touches thy peace."
236
KIM
" O Shaitan I " Mahbub gave the money,
" Rememberest thou the little business of the
thieves in the dark, down yonder at Umballa ? "
" Seeing they sought my hfe, I have not alto-
gether forgotten. Why ? "
" Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai ? "
" I will twist thy ears in a moment. Sahib."
"No need — Pathan. Only, the second faquir^
whom the Sahibs beat senseless, was the man who
came to search thy bulkhead at Lahore. I saw
his face as they helped him on the engine. The
very same man."
" Why didst thou not tell before 1 "
" Oh, he will go to jail, and be safe for some
years. There is no need to tell more than is neces-
sary at any one time. Besides, I did not then need
money for sweetmeats."
"Allah kerimi" said Mahbub Ali. "Wilt thou
some day sell my head for a few sweetmeats if the
fit takes thee ? "
Kim will remember till he dies that long, lazy
journey from Umballa, through Kalka and the
Pinjore Gardens near by, up to Simla. A sudden
spate in the Gugger River swept down one horse
(the most valuable, be sure), and nearly drowned
Kim among the dancing boulders. Farther up the
road the horses were stampeded by a Government
elephant, and being in high condition of grass food,
237
KIM
it cost a day and a half to get them together again.
Then they met Sikandar Khan coming down with
a few unsaleable screws, — remnants of his string, —
and Mahbub, who has more of horse-coping in his
little finger-nail than Sikandar Khan in all his
tents, must needs buy two of the worst, and that
meant eight hours' laborious diplomacy and untold
tobacco. But it was all pure delight — the wan-
dering road, climbing, dipping, and sweeping about
the growing spurs ; the flush of the morning laid
along the distant snows; the branched cacti, tier
upon tier on the stony hillsides; the voices of a
thousand water-channels ; the chatter of the mon-
keys; the solemn deodars, climbing one after
another with down-drooped branches; the vista ot
the Plains rolled out far beneath them ; the inces-
sant twanging of the tonga-horns and the wild rush
of the led-horses when a tonga swung round a
curve ; the halts for prayers (Mahbub was very re-
ligious in dry-washings and bellowings when time
did not press) ; the evening conferences by the
halting-places, when camels and bullocks chewed
solemnly together and the stolid drivers told the
news of the Road — all these things lifted Kim's
heart to song within him.
"But, when the singing and dancing is done,"
said Mahbub Ali, "comes the Colonel Sahib's,
and that is not so sweet."
" A fair land — a most beautiful land is this of
238
KIM
Hind — and the land of the Five Rivers is fairer
than all," Kim half chanted. " Into it I will go
again if Mahbub AH or the Colonel lift hand or
foot against me. Once gone, who shall find me ?
Look, Hajji, is yonder the city of Simla *? Allah,
what a city ! "
" My father's brother, and he was an old man
when Mackerson Sahib's well was new at Peshawur,
could recall when there were but two houses in it."
He led the horses below the main road into the
lower Simla bazar — the crowded rabbit-warren
that climbs up from the valley to the Town Hall
at an angle of forty-five. A man who knows his
way there can defy all the police of India's sum-
mer capital ; so cunningly does verandah commu-
nicate with verandah, alley-way with alley-way,
and bolt-hole with bolt-hole. Here live those
who minister to the wants of the glad city —
jhampanis who pull the pretty ladies' rickshaws
by night and gamble till the dawn ; grocers, oil-
sellers, curio-vendors, firewood-dealers, priests,
pickpockets, and native employees of the Govern-
ment : here are discussed by courtesans the things
which are supposed to be profoundest secrets of
the India Council; and here gather all the sub-
sub-agents of half the native States. Here, too,
Mahbub Ali rented a room, much more securely
locked than his bulkhead at Lahore, in the house
of a Mohammedan cattle-dealer. It was a place
KIM
of miracles, too, for there went in at twilight a
Mohammedan horse-boy, and there came out an
hour later a Eurasian lad — the Lucknow girl's
dye was of the best — in badly fitting shop-clothes.
" I have spoken with Creighton Sahib," quoth
Mahbub Ali, "and a second time has the Hand of
Friendship averted the Whip of Calamity. He
says that thou hast altogether wasted sixty days
upon the Road, and it is too late, therefore, to send
thee to any hill-school."
" I have said that my holidays are my own. I
do not go to school twice over. That is one part
of my bond."
" The Colonel Sahib is not yet aware of the con-
tract. Thou art to lodge in Lurgan Sahib's house
till it is time to go again to Nucklao."
" I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub."
" Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgan
Sahib himself asked lor thee. Thou wilt go up
the hill and along the road atop, and there thou
must forget for awhile that thou hast ever seen or
spoken to me, Mahbub Ali, who sells horses to
Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.
Remember this order."
Kim nodded. "Good," said he, "and who is
Lurgan Sahib'? Nay" — he caught Mahbub's
sword-keen glance — " indeed I have never heard
his name. Is he by chance" — he lowered his
voice — " one of us ? "
240
KIM
"What talk is this of ?/-r. Sahib ? " Mahbub Ali
returned, in the tone he used towards Europeans.
" I am a Pathan ; thou art a Sahib and the son of
a Sahib. Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the
European shops. All Simla knows it. Ask there
. . . and, Friend of all the World, he is one to
be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes. Men
say he does magic, but that should not touch thee.
Go up the hill and ask. Here begins the Great
Game."
241
IX
S'doaks was son of Yelth the wise —
Chief of the Raven clan.
Itswoot the Bear had him in care
To make him a medicine-man.
He was quick and quicker to learn —
Bold and bolder to dare :
He danced the dread Kloo-Kwallie Dance
To tickle Itswoot the Bear!
Oregon Legend.
Kim flung himself whole-heartedly upon the next
turn of the wheel. He would be a Sahib again for
awhile. In that idea, so soon as he had reached
the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast
about for one to impress. A Hindu child, some
ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post.
" Where is Mr. Lurgan's house *? " demanded
Kim.
" I do not understand English," was the answer,
and Kim shifted his speech accordingly.
" I will show."
Together they set off through the mysterious
242
KIM
dusk, full of the noises of a city below the hillside,
and the breath of a cool wind in deodar-crowned
Jakko, shouldering the stars. The house-lights,
scattered on every level, made, as it were, a double
firmament. Some were fixed, others belonged to
the rickshaws of careless, open-spoken English
folk, going out to dinner.
" It is here," said Kim's guide, and halted in a
verandah flush with the main road. No door
stayed them, but a curtain of beaded reeds that
split up the lamp-light beyond.
" He is come," said the boy, in a voice little
louder than a sigh, and vanished. Kim felt sure
that the boy had been posted to guide him from
the first, but putting a bold face on it, parted the
curtain. A black-bearded man, with a green shade
over his eyes, sat at a table, and, one by one, with
short, white hands, picked up globules of light
from a tray before him, threaded them on a glanc-
ing silken string, and hummed to himself the while.
Kim was conscious that beyond the circle of light
the room was full of things that smelt like all the
temples of all the East. A whifF of musk, a puff of
sandal-wood, and a breath of sickly jessamine-oil
caught his opened nostrils.
" I am here," said Kim at last, speaking in the
vernacular : the smells made him forget that he was
to be a Sahib.
"Seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one," the man
243
KIM
counted to himself, stringing pearl after pearl so
quickly that Kim could scarcely follow his fingers.
He slid off the green shade and looked fixedly at
Kim for a full half-minute. The pupils of the eye
dilated and closed to pin-pricks, as if at will. There
was 2. faquir by the Taksali Gate who had just this
gift and made money by it, especially when cursing
silly women. Kim stared with interest. His dis-
reputable friend could further twitch his ears, almost
like a goat, and Kim was disappointed that this
new man could not imitate him.
" Do not be afraid," said Mr. Lurgan suddenly.
"Why should I fear*?"
" Thou wilt sleep here to-night, and stay with
me till it is time to go again to Nucklao. It is an
order."
" It is an order," Kim repeated. " But where
shall I sleep ? "
" Here, in this room." Lurgan Sahib waved his
hand towards the darkness behind him.
" So be it," said Kim composedly, " Now *? "
He nodded and held the lamp above his head.
As the light swept them, there leaped out from the
walls a collection of Tibetan devil-dance masks,
hanging above the fiend-embroidered draperies of
those ghastly functions — horned masks, scowling
masks, and masks of idiotic terror. In a corner,
a Japanese warrior, mailed and plumed, menaced
him with a halberd, and a score of lances and
244
KIM
khandas and kuttars gave back the unsteady gleam.
But what interested Kim more than all these things
— he had seen devil-dance masks at the Lahore
Museum — was a glimpse of the soft-eyed Hindu
child who had left him in the doorway, sitting
cross-legged under the table of pearls with a little
smile on his scarlet lips.
" I think that Lurgan Sahib wishes to make me
afraid. And I am sure that the devil's brat below
the table wishes to see me afraid. This place," he
said aloud, " is like a Wonder House. Where is
my bed % "
Lurgan Sahib pointed to a native quilt in a
corner by the loathsome masks, picked up the
lamp, and left the room black.
" Was that Lurgan Sahib*?" Kim asked as he
cuddled down. No answer. He could hear the
Hindu boy breathing, however, and, guided by
the sound, crawled across the floor, and cuffed
into the darkness, crying: "Give answer, devil I
Is this the way to lie to a Sahib ? "
From the darkness he fancied he could hear the
echo of a chuckle. It could not be his soft-fleshed
companion, because he was weeping. So Kim
lifted up his voice and called aloud : " Lurgan
Sahib ! O Lurgan Sahib ! Is it an order that thy
servant does not speak to me ? "
" It is an order." The voice came from behind
him, and he started.
245
KIM
" Very good. But remember," he muttered, as
he resought the quilt, " I will beat thee in the
morning. I do not love Hindus."
That was no cheerful night; the room being
overfull of voices and music. Kim was waked
twice by some one calling his name. The second
time he set out in search, and ended by bruising
his nose against a box that certainly spoke with a
human tongue, but in no sort of human accent.
It seemed to end in a tin trumpet and to be joined
by wires to a smaller box on the floor — so far, at
least, as he could judge by touch. And the voice,
very hard and whirring, came out of the trumpet.
Kim rubbed his nose and grew furious, thinking,
as usual, in Hindi.
" This with a beggar from the bazar might be
good, but — I am a Sahib and the son of a Sahib
and, which is twice as much more beside, a student
of Nucklao. Yess " (here he turned to English),
"a boy of St. Xavier's. Damn Mr. Lurgan's eyes!
— It is some sort of machinery like a sewing-
machine. Oh, it is a great cheek of him — we are
not frightened that way at Lucknow — No! " Then
in Hindi: "But what does ke gain? He is only a
trader — I am in his shop. But Creighton Sahib
is a Colonel — and I think Creighton Sahib gave
orders that it should be done. Kou: I will beat
that Hindu in the morning ! What is this *? "
The trumpet-box was pouring out a string of
246
KIM
the most elaborate abuse that even Kim had ever
heard, in a high uninterested voice, that for a
moment lifted the short hairs of his neck. When
the vile thing drew breath, Kim was reassured by
the soft, sewing-machine-like whirr.
'"''Chup!" (be still) he cried, and again he heard
a chuckle that decided him. '•'•Chup — or I break
your head."
The box took no heed. Kim wrenched at the
tin trumpet and something lifted with a click.
He had evidently raised a lid. If there were a
devil inside, now was its time for — he sniffed —
thus did the sewing-machines of the bazar smell.
He would clean that shaitati. He slipped off his
jacket, and plunged it into the box's mouth.
Something long and round bent under the pres-
sure, there was a whirr and the voice stopped —
as voices must if you ram a thrice-doubled coat
on to the wax cylinder and into the works of an
expensive phonograph. Kim finished his slumbers
with a serene mind.
In the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib
looking down on him.
"Oahl" said Kim, firmly resolved to cling to
his Sahib-dom. " There was a box in the night
that gave me bad talk. So I stopped it. Was it
your box "^ "
The man held out his hand.
" Shake hands, O'Hara," he said. " Yes, it was
247
KIM
my box. I keep such things because my friends
the Rajahs like them. That one is broken, but it
was cheap at the price. Yes, my friends the
Kings are very fond of toys — and so am I some-
times."
Kim looked him over out of the corners of his
eyes. He was a Sahib in that he wore Sahib's
clothes ; the accent of his Urdu, the intonation of
his English, showed that he was anything but a
Sahib. He seemed to understand what moved in
Kim's mind ere the boy opened his mouth, and
he took no pains to explain himself as did Father
Victor or the Lucknow masters. Sweetest of all
— he treated Kim as an equal on the Asiatic side.
" I am sorry you cannot beat my boy this
morning. He says he will kill you with a knife
or poison. He is jealous, so I have put him in the
corner and I shall not speak to him to-day. He
has just tried to kill me. You must help me with
the breakfast. He is almost too jealous to trust,
just now."
Now a genuine imported Sahib from England
would have made a great to-do over this tale.
Lurgan Sahib stated it as simply as Mahbub Ali
was used to record his little affairs in the North.
The back verandah of the shop was built out
1.
over the sheer hillside, and they looked down into
their neighbours' chimney-pots, as is the custom of
Simla. But even more than the purely Persian
248
KIM
meal cooked by Lurgan Sahib with his own hands,
the shop fascinated Kim. The Lahore Museum
was larger, but here were more wonders — ghost-
daggers and prayer-wheels from Tibet ; turquoise
and raw amber necklaces; green jade bangles;
curiously packed incense-sticks in jars crusted over
with raw garnets ; the devil-masks of overnight
and a wall full of peacock-blue draperies ; gilt fig-
ures of Buddha, and little portable lacquer altars;
Russian samovars with turquoises on the lid ; egg-
shell china sets in quaint octagonal cane boxes;
yellow ivory crucifixes — from Japan of all places
in the world, so Lurgan Sahib said; carpets in
dusty bales, smelling atrociously, pushed back
behind torn and rotten screens of geometrical
work ; Persian water-jugs for the hands after
meals ; dull copper incense-burners, neither Chinese
nor Persian, with friezes of fantastic devils running
round them; tarnished silver belts that knotted
like raw hide; hair-pins of jade, ivory, and
plasma ; arms of all sorts and kinds, and a thou-
sand other oddments were cased, or piled, or merely
thrown into the room, leaving a clear space only
round the rickety deal table, where Lurgan Sahib
worked.
" Those things are nothing," said his host, fol-
lowing Kim's glance. "I buy them because they
are pretty, and sometimes I sell — if I like the buyer's
look. My work is on the table — some of it."
249
KIM
It blazed in the morning light — all red and blue
and green flashes, picked out with the vicious blue-
white spurt of a diamond here and there. Kim
opened his eyes.
"Oh, they are quite well, those stones. It will
not hurt them to take the sun. Besides, they are
cheap. But with sick stones it is very different."
He piled Kim's plate anew. " There is no one but
me can doctor a sick pearl and re-blue turquoises,
I grant you opals — any fool can cure an opal —
but for a sick pearl there is only me. Suppose I
were to die ! Then there would be no one. . . .
Oh no I Tou cannot do anything with jewels. It
will be quite enough if you understand a little
about the Turquoise — some day."
He moved to the end of the verandah to refill
the heavy, porous clay water-jug from the filter.
" Do you want drink ? "
Kim nodded. Lurgan Sahib, fifteen feet off, laid
one hand on the jar. Next instant, it stood at
Kim's elbow, full to within half an inch of the
brim — the white cloth only showing, by a small
wrinkle, where it had slid into place.
" Wah ! " said Kim in most utter amazement.
" That is magic." Lurgan Sahib's smile showed
that the compliment had gone home.
" Throw it back."
" It will break."
" I say, throw it back."
250
KIM
Kim pitched it at random. It fell short and
crashed into fifty pieces, while the water dripped
through the rough verandah boarding.
" I said it would break."
" All one. Look at it. Look at the largest
piece."
That lay with a sparkle of water in its curve, as
it were a star on the floor. Kim looked intently ;
Lurgan Sahib laid one hand gently on the nape of
his neck, stroked it twice or thrice, and whispered :
"Look I It shall come to life again, piece by piece.
First the big piece shall join itself to two others on
the right and the left — on the right and the left.
Look ! "
To save his life, Kim could not have turned his
head. The light touch held him as in a vice, and
his blood tingled pleasantly through him. There
was one large piece of the jar where there had been
three, and above them the shadowy outline of the
entire vessel. He could see the verandah through
it, but it was thickening and darkening with each
beat of his pulse. Yet the jar — how slowly the
thoughts came! — the jar had been smashed be-
fore his eyes. Another wave of prickling fire
raced down his neck, as Lurgan Sahib moved his
hand.
" Look ! It is coming into shape," said Lurgan
Sahib.
So far Kim had been thinking in Hindi, but a
251
KIM
tremor came on him, and with an effort like that
of a swimmer before sharks, who hurls himself half
out of the water, his mind leaped up from a dark-
ness that was swallowing it and took refuge in —
the multiplication-table in English !
" Look I It is coming into shape," whispered
Lurgan Sahib.
The jar had been smashed — yess, smashed —
not the native word, he would not think of that —
but smashed — into fifty pieces, and twice three
was six, and thrice three was nine, and four
times three was twelve. He clung desperately to
the repetition. The shadow-outline of the jar
cleared like a mist after rubbing eyes. There were
the broken shards; there was the spilt water dry-
ing in the sun, and through the cracks of the ve-
randah showed, all ribbed, the white house-wall
below — and thrice twelve was thirty-six I
" Look I Is it coming into shape ?" asked Lur-
gan Sahib.
" But it is smashed — smashed," he gasped —
Lurgan Sahib had been muttering softly for the
last half-minute. Kim wrenched his head aside.
" Look ! Dekho ! It is there as it was there."
" It is there as it was there," said Lurgan, watch-
ing Kim closely while the boy rubbed his neck.
" But you are the first of a many who have ever
seen it so." He wiped his broad forehead.
" Was that more magic *? " Kim asked sus-
2 C2
KIM
piciously. The tingle had gone from his veins ;
he felt unusually wide awake.
" No, that was not magic. It was only to see
if there was — a flaw in a jewel. Sometimes very
fine jewels will fly all to pieces if a man holds them
in his hand, and knows the proper way. That is
why one must be careful before one sets them.
Tell me, did you see the shape of the pot *? "
" For a little time. It began to grow like a
flower from the ground."
" And then what did you do ? I mean, how
did you think ? "
" Oah ! I knew it was broken, and so, I
think, that was what I thought — and it was
broken."
" Hm I Has any one ever done that same sort
of magic to you before '? "
" If it was," said Kim, " do you think I should
let it again ? I should run away."
" And now you are not afraid — eh ? "
" Not now."
Lurgan Sahib looked at him more closely than
ever. "I shall ask Mahbub Ali — not now, but
some day later," he muttered. " I am pleased
with you — yes; and I am pleased with you — no.
You are the first that ever saved himself I wish
I knew what it was that . . . But you are right.
You should not tell that — not even to me."
He turned into the dusky gloom of the shop,
253
KIM
and sat down at the table, rubbing his hands
softly. A small, husky sob came from behind a
pile of carpets. It was the Hindu child obedi-
ently facing towards the wall : his thin shoulders
worked with grief.
" Ah I He is jealous, so jealous. I wonder if
he will try to poison me again in my breakfast,
and make me cook it twice."
"• Kubbec — kubbee nahin" came the broken an-
swer.
" And whether he will kill this other boy *? "
" Kubbee — kubbee nahin " (never — never. No !).
" What do you think he will do ? " He turned
suddenly on Kim.
" Oah I I do not know. Let him go, perhaps.
Why did he want to poison you ? "
" Because he is so fond of me. Suppose you
were fond of some one, and you saw some one
come, and the man you were fond of was more
pleased with him than he was with you, what
would you do % "
Kim thought. Lurgan repeated the sentence
slowly in the vernacular.
" I should not poison that man," said Kim re-
flectively, " but I should beat that boy — if that
boy was fond of my man. But first I would ask
that boy if it were true."
"Ah I He thinks every one must be fond of
me."
254
KIM
" Then I think he is a fool."
" Hearest thou *? " said Lurgan Sahib to the
shaking shoulders. " The Sahib's son thinks thou
art a little fool. Come out, and next time thy
heart is troubled, do not try white arsenic quite so
openly. Surely the Devil Dasim was lord of our
table-cloth that day I It might have made me ill,
child, and then a stranger would have guarded the
jewels. Come ! "
The child, heavy-eyed with much weeping,
crept out from behind the bale and flung himself
passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with an ex-
travagance of remorse that impressed even Kim.
" I will look into the ink-pools — I will faith-
fully guard the jewels I Oh, my father and my
mother, send him away!" He indicated Kim
with a backward jerk of his bare heel.
"Not yet — not yet. In a little while he will
go away again. But now he is at school — at a
new ffiadrissah — and thou shalt be his teacher.
Play the Play of the Jewels against him. I will
keep tally."
The child dried his tears at once, and dashed to
the back of the shop, whence he returned with a
copper tray.
" Give me ! " he said to Lurgan Sahib. " Let
them come from thy hand, for he may say that
I knew them before."
"Gently — gently," the man replied, and from a
KIM
drawer under the table dealt a half handful of
clattering trifles into the tray,
"Now," said the child, waving an old news-
paper. "Look on them as long as thou wilt,
stranger. Count and, if need be, handle. One
look is enough for me" He turned his back
proudly.
" But what is the game *? "
" When thou hast counted and handled and
art sure that thou canst remember them all, I cover
them with this paper, and thou must tell over the
tally to Lurgan Sahib, / will write mine."
"Oah!" The instinct of competition waked in
his breast. He bent over the tray. There were
but fifteen stones on it. " That is easy," he said
after a minute. The child slipped the paper over
the winking jewels and scribbled in a native
account-book,
" There are under that paper five blue stones —
one big, one smaller, and three small," said Kim,
all in haste. " There are four green stones, and
one with a hole in it; there is one yellow stone
that I can see through, and one like a pipe-stem.
There are two red stones, and — and — I made the
count fifteen, but two I have forgotten. No !
Give me time. One was of ivory, little and
brownish; and — and — give me time . . ."
" One — two " — Lurgan Sahib counted him out
up to ten. Kim shook his head.
256
KIM
" Hear my count ! " the child burst in, trilling
with laughter, " First, are two flawed sapphires —
one of two ruttees and one of four as I should
judge. The four-ruttee sapphire is chipped at the
edge. There is one Turkestan turquoise, plain
with black veins, and there are two inscribed —
one with a Name of God in gilt, and the other
being cracked across, for it came out of an old ring,
I cannot read. We have now all five blue stones.
Four flawed emeralds there are, but one is drilled
in two places, and one is a little carven — "
"Their weights'?" said Lurgan Sahib impas-
sively.
" Three — five — five — and four ruttees as I
judge it. There is one piece of old greenish pipe
amber, and a cut topaz from Europe. There is one
ruby of Burma, of two ruttees, without a flaw, and
there is a balas-ruby, flawed, of two ruttees. There
is a carved ivory from China representing a rat
sucking an egg ; and there is last — ah ha I — a ball
of crystal as big as a bean set in a gold leaf"
He clapped his hands at the close.
"He is thy master," said Lurgan Sahib, smiling.
" Huh ! He knew the names of the stones,"
said Kim, flushing. " Try again I With common
things such as he and I both know."
They heaped the tray again with odds and ends
gathered from the shop, and even the kitchen, and
every time the child won, till Kim marvelled.
257
KIM
" Bind my eyes — let me feel once with my
fingers, and even then I will leave thee open-eyed
behind," he challenged.
Kim stamped with vexation when the lad made
his boast good.
" If it were men — or horses," he said, " I could
do better. This playing with tweezers and knives
and scissors is too little."
"Learn first — teach later," said Lurgan Sahib.
" Is he thy master ? "
" Truly. But how is it done •? "
" By doing it many times over till it is done
perfectly — for it is worth doing."
The Hindu boy, in highest feather, actually
patted Kim on the back.
" Do not despair," he said. " I myself will teach
thee."
" And I will see that thou art well taught," said
Lurgan Sahib, still speaking in the vernacular, " for
except my boy here — it was foolish of him to buy
so much white arsenic when, it he had asked, I
could have given it — except my boy here I have
not in a long time met with one better worth teach-
ing. And there are ten days more ere thou canst
return to Nucklao, where they teach nothing — at
the long price. We shall, I think, be friends."
They were a most mad ten days, but Kim en-
joyed himself too much to reflect on their crazi-
ness. In the morning they played the Jewel
258
KIM
Game — sometimes with veritable stones, some-
times with piles of swords and daggers, some-
times with photographs of natives. Through the
afternoons he and the Hindu boy would mount
guard in the shop, sitting dumb behind a carpet-
bale or a screen and watching Mr. Lurgan's many
and very curious visitors. There were small Rajahs,
escorts coughing in the verandah, who came to buy
curiosities — such as phonographs and mechanical
toys. There were ladies in search of necklaces,
and men, it seemed to Kim — but his mind may
have been vitiated by early training — in search of
the ladies; natives from independent and feudatory
courts whose ostensible business was the repair of
broken necklaces — rivers of light poured out
upon the table — but whose true end seemed to
be to raise money for angry Maharanees or young
Rajahs. There were Babus to whom Lurgan Sahib
talked with austerity and authority, but at the end
of each interview he gave them money in coined
silver and currency notes. There were occasional
gatherings of long-coated theatrical natives who
discussed metaphysics in English and Bengali, to
Mr. Lurgan's great edification. He was always
interested in religions. At the end of the day,
Kim and the Hindu boy — whose name varied
at Lurgan's pleasure — were expected to give a
detailed account of all that they had seen and
heard — their view of each man's character, as
259
KIM
shown in his face, talk, and manner, and their
notions of his real errand. After dinner, Lurgan
Sahib's fancy turned more to what might be called
dressing-up, in which game he took a most in-
forming interest. He could paint faces to a marvel;
with a brush-dab here and a line there changing
them past recognition. The shop was full of all
manner of dresses and turbans, and Kim was
apparelled variously as a young Mohammedan of
good family, an oilman, and once — which was a
joyous evening — as the son of an Oudh land-
holder in the fullest of full dress. Lurgan Sahib
had a hawk's eye to detect the least flaw in the
make-up; and lying on a worn teak-wood couch,
would explain by the half-hour together how such
and such a caste talked, or walked, or coughed, or
spat, or sneezed, and, since " hows " matter little in
this world, the " why " of everything. The Hindu
child played this game clumsily. That little mind,
keen as an icicle where tally of jewels was con-
cerned, could not temper itself to enter another's
soul; but a demon in Kim woke up and sang with
joy as he put on the changing dresses, and changed
speech and gesture therewith.
Carried away by enthusiasm, he volunteered to
show Lurgan Sahib one evening how the disciples
of a certain caste oi faqinr^ old Lahore acquain-
tances, begged doles by the roadside; and what sort
of language he would use to an Englishman, to a
260
KIM
Punjabi farmer going to a fair, and to a woman
without a veil. Lurgan Sahib laughed immensely,
and begged Kim to stay as he was, immobile for
half an hour — cross-legged, ash-smeared, and wild-
eyed, in the back room. At the end of that time
entered a hulking, obese Babu whose stockinged
legs shook with fat, and Kim opened on him with
a shower of wayside chaff. Lurgan Sahib — this
annoyed Kim — watched the Babu and not the
play.
" I think," said the Babu heavily, lighting a cigar-
ette, " I am of opeenion that it is most extraordi-
nary and effeecient performance. Except that you
had told me I should have opined that — that —
that you were pulling my legs. How soon can
he become approximately effeecient chain-man?
Because then I shall indent for him."
" That is what he must learn at Lucknow."
" Then order him to be jolly dam-quick. Good-
night, Lurgan." The Babu swung out with the
gait of a bogged cow.
When they were telling over the day's list of
visitors, Lurgan Sahib asked Kim who he thought
the man might be.
" God knows I " said Kim cheerily. The tone
might almost have deceived Mahbub Ali, but it
failed entirely with the healer of sick pearls.
" That is true. God He knows ; but I wish to
know what you think."
261
KIM
Kim glanced sideways at his companion, whose
eye had a way of compelling truth.
"I — I think he will want me when I come
from the school, but" — confidentially, as Lurgan
Sahib nodded approval — "I do not understand
how he can wear many dresses and talk many
tongues,"
" Thou wilt understand many things later. He
is a writer of tales for a certain Colonel. His hon-
our is great only in Simla, and it is noticeable that
he has no name, but only a number and a letter —
that is a custom among us."
"And is there a price upon his head too — as
upon Mah — all the others ? "
" Not yet ; but if a boy rose up who is now sit-
ting here and went — look, the door is open ! —
as far as a certain house with a red-painted veran-
dah, behind that which was the old theatre in the
Lower Bazar, and whispered through the shutters :
' Hurree Chunder Mookerjee bore the bad news of
last month,' that boy might take away a belt full
of rupees."
" How many *? " said Kim promptly.
" Five hundred — a thousand — as many as he
might ask for."
" Good. And how long might such a boy live
after the news was told *? " He smiled merrily at
Lurgan Sahib's very beard.
" Ah I That is to be well thought of Per-
262
KIM
haps if he were very clever, he might live out
the day — but not the night. By no means the
night."
" Then what is the Babu's pay if so much is put
upon his head *? "
" Eighty — perhaps a hundred — perhaps a hun-
dred and fifty rupees; but the pay is the least part
of the work. From time to time, God causes men
to be born — and thou art one of them — who
have a lust to go abroad at the risk, of their lives
and discover news — to-day it may be of far-off
things, to-morrow of some hidden mountain, and
the next day of some near-by men who have done
a foolishness against the State. These souls are
very few ; and of these few, not more than ten are
of the best. Among these ten I count the Babu,
and that is curious. How great therefore and de-
sirable must be a business that brazens the heart of
a Bengali ! "
" True. But the days go slowly for me. I am
yet a boy, and it is only within two months I
learned to write Angrezi. Even now I cannot
read it well. And there are yet years and years
and long years before I can be even a chain-
man."
" Have patience, Friend of all the World " —
Kim started at the title. " Would I had a few
of the years that so irk thee. I have proved thee
in several small ways. This will not be forgotten
263
KIM
when I make my report to the Colonel Sahib."
Then, changing suddenly into English with a deep
laugh : —
" By Jove I O'Hara, I think there is a great
deal in you ; but you must not become proud and
you must not talk. You must go back to Luck-
now and be a good little boy and mind your book,
as the English say, and perhaps next holidays, if
you care, you can come back to me ! " Kim's face
fell. " Oh, I mean if you like. I know where
you want to go."
Four days later a seat was booked for Kim and
his small trunk at the rear of a Kalka tonga.
His companion was the whale-like Babu, who,
with a fringed shawl wrapped round his head,
and his fat open-work-stockinged left leg tucked
under him, shivered and grunted in the morning
chill.
" How comes it that this man is one of us ? "
thought Kim, considering the jelly-back as they
jolted down the road ; and the reflection threw
him into most pleasant day-dreams. Lurgan Sa-
hib had given him five rupees — a splendid sum
— as well as the assurance of his protection if he
worked. Unlike Mahbub, Lurgan Sahib had
spoken most explicitly of the reward that would
follow obedience, and Kim was content. If only,
like the Babu, he could enjoy the dignity of a letter
and a number — and a price upon his head !
264
KIM
Some day he would be all that and more. Some
day he might be almost as great as Mahbub Ali !
The housetops of his search should be half India;
he would follow Kings and ministers, as in the old
days he had followed vakils and lawyers' touts
across Lahore city for Mahbub All's sake. Mean-
time, there was the present, and not at all unpleas-
ant, fact of St. Xavier's immediately before him.
There would be new boys to condescend to, and
there would be tales of holiday adventures to hear.
Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur,
had boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle,
against the head-hunters. That might be, but it
was certain young Martin had not been blown half
across the forecourt of a Patiala palace by an ex-
plosion of fireworks ; nor had he . . . Kim fell to
telling himself the story of his own adventures
through the last three months. He could paralyse
St. Xavier's — even the biggest boys who shaved
— with the recital, were that permitted. But it
was, of course, out of the question. There would
be a price upon his head in good time, as Lurgan
Sahib had assured him ; and if he talked foolishly
now, not only would that price never be set, but
Colonel Creighton would cast him off — and he
would be left to the wrath of Lurgan Sahib and
Mahbub Ali — for the short space of life that
would remain to him.
" So I should lose Delhi for the sake of a fish,"
265
KIM
was his proverbial philosophy. It behoved him to
forget his holidays (there would always remain the
fun of inventing imaginary adventures), and, as
Lurgan Sahib had said, to work.
Of all the boys hurrying back to St. Xavier's,
from Sukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the
palms, none was so filled with virtue as Kimball
O'Hara, jiggetting down to Umballa behind Hur-
ree Chunder Mookerjee, whose name on the
books of one section of the Ethnological Survey
was R.17.
And if additional spur were needed, the Babu
supplied it. After a huge meal at Kalka, he
spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school ?
Then he, an M.A. of Calcutta University, would
explain the advantages of education. There were
marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and
Wordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to
Kim). French, too, was vital, and the best was to
be picked up in Chandernagore, a few miles from
Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself
had done, by strict attention to plays called Lear
and 'Julius Casar^ both much in demand by ex-
aminers. Lear was not so full of historical allu-
sions as Julius Casar ; the book cost four annas,
but could be bought second-hand in Bow Bazar
for two. Still more important than Wordsworth,
or the eminent authors Burke and Hare, was the
art and science of mensuration. A boy who had
266
KIM
passed his examination in these branches — for
which, by the way, there were no cram-books —
could, by merely marching over a country with a
compass and a level and a straight eye, carry away
a picture of that country which might be sold for
large sums in coined silver. But as it was occa-
sionally inexpedient to carry about measuring-
chains, a boy would do well to know the precise
length of his own foot-pace, so that when he was
deprived of what Hurree Chunder called " adven-
titious aids" he might still tread his distances. To
keep count of thousands of paces, Hurree Chunder's
experience had shown him nothing more valuable
than a rosary of eighty-one or a hundred and eight
beads, for " it was divisible and sub-divisible into
many multiples and sub-multiples." Through the
volleying drifts of English, Kim caught the general
trend of the talk, and it interested him very much.
Here was a new craft that a man could tuck away
in his head ; and by the look of the large wide
world unfolding itself before him, it seemed that
the more a man knew the better for him.
Said the Babu when he had talked for an hour
and a half, " I hope some day to enjoy your ofFee-
cial acquaintance. Ad interi?n, if I may be par-
doned that expression, I shall give you this betel-
box, which is highly valuable article and cost me
two rupees only four years ago." It was a cheap,
heart-shaped brass thing with three compartments
267
KliM
for carrying the eternal betel-nut, lime, and pan-
leaf; but it was filled with little tabloid-bottles.
" That is reward of merit for your performance in
character of that holy man. You see, you are so
young you think you will last for ever and not
take care of your body. It is great nuisance to go
sick in the middle of business. I am fond of
drugs myself, and they are handy to cure poor
people too. These are good departmental drugs
— quinine and so on. I give it you for souvenir.
Now good-bye. I have urgent private business
here by the roadside."
He slipped out noiselessly as a cat, on the Um-
balla road, hailed a passing ekka and jingled away,
while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the brass betel-
box in his hands.
The record of a boy's education interests itw
save his parents, and, as you know, Kim was an
orphan. It is written in the books of St. Xavier
in Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was
forwarded at the end of each term to Colonel
Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands
duly came the money for his schooling. It is
further recorded in the same books that he showed
a great aptitude for mathematical studies as well
as map-making, and carried away a prize (Jthe Life
of Lord Lawrence^ tree-calf, two vols., nine rupees
eight annas) for proficiency therein ; and the same
268
HURRY CHUNDER MOOKERJEK
KIM
for carrying the eternal betel-nut, lime, and pan-
leaf; but it was filled with little tabloid-bottles.
" That is reward of merit for your performance in
character of that holy man. You see, you are so
young you think you will last for ever and not
take care of your body. It is great nuisance to go
sick in the middle of business. I am fond of
drugs myself, and they are handy to cure poor
people too. These are good departmental drugs
— quinine and so on. I give it you for souvenir.
Now good-bye. I have urgent private business
here by the roadside."
He slipped out noiselessly as a cat, on the Um-
balla road, hailed a passing ekka and jingled away,
while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the brass betel-
box in his hands.
The record of a boy's education interests few
save his parents, and, as you know, Kim was an
orphan. It is written in the books of St. Xavier
in Partibus that a report of Kim s progress was
forwarded at the end of each term to Colonel
Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose hands
duly came the money for his schooling. It is
further recorded in the same books that he showed
a great aptitude for mathematical studies as well
as map-making, and carried away a prize {fthe Life
of Lord Lawrence, tree-calf, two vols., nine rupees
eight annJfW^96Mefl^G^f^;YMyftesame
268
KIM
term played in St. Xavier's eleven against the
Allyghur Mohammedan College, his age being
fourteen years and ten months. He was also re-
vaccinated (from which we may assume that there
had been another epidemic of small-pox at Luck-
now) about the same time. Pencil notes on the
edge of an old muster-roll record that he was
punished several times for "conversing with im-
proper persons," and it seems that he was once
sentenced to heavy pains for " absenting himself
for a day in the company of a street beggar."
That was when he got over the gate and pleaded
with the lama through a whole day down the
banks of the Goomtee to accompany him on the
road next holidays — for one month — for a little
week; and the lama set his face as a flint against
it, averring that the time had not yet come.
Kim's business, said the old man as they ate
cakes together, was to get all the wisdom of the
Sahibs and then he would see. The hand of
friendship must in some way have averted the
whip of calamity, for six weeks later Kim seems
to have passed an examination in elementary sur-
veying "with great credit," his age being fifteen
years and eight months. From this date the record
is silent. His name does not appear in the year's
batch of those who entered for the subordinate
Survey of India, but against it stand the words
" removed on appointment."
269
KIM
Several times in those three years, cast up at
the Temple of the Tirthankers in Benares the
lama, a little thinner and a shade yellower, if that
were possible, but gentle and untainted as ever.
Sometimes it was from the South that he came
— from south of Tuticorin, whence the wonder-
ful fire-boats go to Ceylon where are priests who
know Pali ; sometimes it was from the wet green
West and the thousand cotton-factory chimneys
that ring Bombay; and once from the North,
where he had doubled back eight hundred miles
to talk a day with the Keeper of the Images in
the Wonder House. He would stride to his cell
in the cool, cut marble — the priests of the temple
were good to the old man — wash off the dust
of travel, make prayer, and depart for Lucknow,
well accustomed now to the ways of the rail, in
a third-class carriage. Returning, it was notice-
able, as his friend the Seeker pointed out to the
head-priest, that he ceased for awhile to mourn
the loss of his River, or to draw wondrous pictures
of the Wheel of Life, but preferred to talk of the
beauty and wisdom of a certain mysterious chela
whom no man of the temple had ever seen. Yes, he
had followed the traces of the Blessed Feet through-
out all India. (The curator has still in his possession
a most marvellous account of his wanderings and
meditations.) There remained nothing more in
life but to find the River of the Arrow. Yet
270
KIM
it was shown to him in dreams that it was a mat-
ter not to be undertaken with any hope of suc-
cess unless that seeker had with him the one
chela appointed to bring the event to a happy
issue, and versed in great wisdom — such wisdom
as white-haired Keepers of Images possess. For
example, (here came out the snuff-gourd, and the
kindly Jain priests made haste to be silent): —
" Long and long ago, when Devadatta was King
of Benares — let all listen to the Jdtaka! — an
elephant was captured for a time by the King's
hunters and, ere he broke free, beringed with a
grievous leg-iron. This he strove to remove with
hate and frenzy in his heart, and hurrying up and
down the forests, besought his brother-elephants to
wrench it asunder. One by one, with their strong
trunks, they tried and failed. At the last they gave
it as their opinion that the ring was not to be broken
by any bestial power. And in a thicket, new-born,
wet with the moisture of birth, lay a day-old calf of
the herd whose mother had died. The fettered
elephant, forgetting his own agony, said: ' If I do
not help this suckling it will perish under our feet.'
So he stood above the young thing, making his legs
buttresses against the uneasily moving herd; and
he begged milk of a virtuous cow, and the calf
throve, and the ringed elephant was the calf's
guide and defence. Now the days of an elephant
— let all listen to the Jatahi I — are thirty-five
271
KIM
years to his full strength, and through thirty-five
Rains the ringed elephant befriended the younger,
and all the while the fetter ate into the flesh.
" Then one day the young elephant saw the half-
buried iron, and turning to the elder said : ' What
is this "? ' ' It is even my sorrow,' said he who
had befriended him. Then that other put out his
trunk and in the twinkling of an eyelash abolished
the ring, saying : ' The appointed time has come.'
So the virtuous elephant who had waited temper-
ately and done kind acts was relieved, at the
appointed time, by the very calf whom he had
turned aside to cherish — let all listen to the
ydtaka ! — for the Elephant was Ananda, and the
Calf that broke the ring was none other than The
Lord Himself . . ."
Then he would shake his head benignly, and
over the ever-clicking rosary point out how free
that elephant calf was from the sin of pride. He
was as humble as a chela who, seeing his master
sitting in the dust outside the Gates of Learning,
overleapt the gates (though they were locked) and
took his master to his heart in the presence of the
proud-stomached city. Rich would be the reward
of such a master and such a ckcia when the time
came for them to seek freedom together !
So did the lama speak, coming and going across
India as softly as a bat. A sharp-tongued old
woman in a house among the fruit-trees behind
272
KIM
Saharunpore honoured him as the woman honoured
the prophet, but his chamber was by no means
upon the wall. In an apartment of the forecourt
overlooked by cooing doves he would sit, while she
laid aside her useless veil and chattered of spirits
and fiends of Kulu, of grandchildren unborn, and of
the free-tongued brat who had talked to her in the
resting-place. Once, too, he strayed alone from
the Grand Trunk Road below Umballa to the very
village whose priest had tried to drug him ; but
the kind heaven that guards lamas sent him at
twilight through the crops, absorbed and un-
suspicious, to the ressaldar's door. Here was like
to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the
old soldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars
had gone that way only six days before.
" That may not be," said the lama. " He has
gone back to his own people."
" He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry
tales five nights ago," his host insisted. " True, he
vanished somewhat suddenly in the dawn after
foolish talk with my grand-daughter. He grows
apace, but he is the same Friend of the Stars as
brought me true word of the war. Have ye
parted ? "
"Yes — and No," the lama replied, "We — we
have not altogether parted, but the time is not ripe
that we should take the Road together. He acquires
wisdom in another place. We must wait."
273
KIM
"All one — but if it were not the boy how did
he come to speak so continually of thee ? "
"And what said he*? " asked the lama eagerly.
"Sweet words — an hundred thousand — that
thou art his father and mother and such all. Pity
that he does not take the Queen's service. He is
fearless."
This news amazed the lama, who did not then
know how religiously Kim kept to the contract
made with Mahbub Ali, and perforce ratified by
Colonel Creighton. . . .
" There is no holding the young pony from
the Game," said the horse-dealer when the Colonel
pointed out that vagabonding over India in holiday-
time was absurd. " If permission be refused to go
and come as he chooses, he will make light of the
refusal. Then who is to catch himV Colonel
Sahib, only once in a thousand years is a horse
born so well fitted for the Game as this our colt.
And we need men."
274
X
Your tiercel's too long at hack. Sire. He's no eyass
But a passage-hawk that footed ere we caught him.
Dangerously free o' the air. Faith! were he mine
(As mine's the glove he binds to for his tirings)
I'd fly him with a make-hawk. He's in yarak
Plumed to the very point — so manned so weathered . . .
Give him the firmament God made him for.
And what shall take the air of him?
Old Play.
LuRGAN Sahib did not use as direct speech, but
his advice tallied with Mahbub's ; and the upshot
was good for Kim. He knew better now than to
leave Lucknow city in native garb, and if Mahbub
were anywhere within reach of a letter, it was to
Mahbub's camp he headed, and made his change
under the Pathan's wary eye. Could the little
Survey paint-box that he used for map-tinting in
term-time have found a tongue to tell of holiday
doings, he might have been expelled. Once Mah-
bub and he went together as far as the beautiful
city of Bombay, with three truck-loads of tram-
horses, and Mahbub nearly melted when Kim pro-
posed a sail in a dhow across the Indian Ocean
KIM
to buy Gulf Arabs, which he understood, from a
hanger-on of the dealer Abdul Rahman, fetched
better prices than mere Cabulis,
He dipped his hand into the dish with that
great trader when Mahbub and a few co-religion-
ists were invited to a big Haj dinner. They came
back by way of Karachi by sea, when Kim took
his first experience of sea-sickness sitting on the
fore-hatch of a coasting-steamer, well persuaded
he had been poisoned. The Babu's famous drug-
box proved useless, though Kim had restocked it
at Bombay. Mahbub had business at Ouetta, and
there Kim, as Mahbub admitted, earned his keep,
and perhaps a little over, by spending four curious
days as scullion in the house of a fat Commissariat
sergeant, from whose office-box, in an auspicious
moment, he removed a little vellum ledger which
he copied out — it seemed to deal entirely with
cattle and camel sales — by moonlight, lying be-
hind an outhouse, all through one hot night.
Then he returned the ledger to its place, and, at
Mahbub's word, left that service unpaid, rejoining
him six miles down the road, the clean copy in his
bosom.
" That soldier is a small fish," Mahbub Ali ex-
plained, " but in time we shall catch the larger one.
He only sells oxen at two prices — one for himself
and one for the Government — which I do not
think is a sin."
276
KIM
"Why could not I take away the little book
and be done with it *? "
" Then he would have been frightened, and he
would have told his master. Then we should
miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which
seek their way up from Ouetta to the North. The
Game is so large that one sees but a little at a time."
"Oho I" said Kim, and held his tongue. That
was in the monsoon holidays, after he had taken
the prize for mathematics. The Christmas holi-
days he spent — deducting ten days for private
amusements — with Lurgan Sahib, where he sat
for the most part in front of a roaring wood-fire —
Jakko-road was four feet deep in snow that year —
and — the small Hindu had gone away to be mar-
ried— helped Lurgan to thread pearls. He made
Kim learn whole chapters of the Koran by heart,
till he could deliver them with the very roll and
cadence of a mullah. Moreover, he told Kim the
names and properties of many native drugs, as well
as the runes proper to recite when you administer
them. And in the evenings he wrote charms on
parchment — elaborate pentagrams crowned with
the names of devils — Murra, and Awan the Com-
panion of Kings — all fantastically written in the
corners. More to the point, he advised Kim as to
the care of his own body, the cure of fever-fits, and
simple remedies of the Road. A week before it
was time to go down, Colonel Creighton Sahib —
277
KIM
this was uniair — sent Kim a written examination-
paper that concerned itself solely with rods and
chains and links and angles.
Next holidays he was out with Mahbub, and
here, by the way, he nearly died of thirst, plodding
through the sand on a camel to the mysterious city
of Bikaneer, where the wells are four hundred feet
deep, and lined throughout with camel-bone. It
was not an amusing trip from Kim's point of view,
because — in defiance of the contract — the Colo-
nel ordered him to make a map of that wild, walled
city; and since Mohammedan horse-boys and
pipe-tenders are not expected to drag Survey-
chains round the capital of an independent native
State, Kim was forced to pace all his distances by
means of a bead rosary. He used the compass for
bearings as occasion served — after dark chiefly,
when the camels had been fed — and by the help
of his little Survey paint-box of six colour-cakes
and three brushes, he achieved something not re-
motely unlike the city of Jeysalmir. Mahbub
laughed a great deal, and advised him to make up
a written report as well ; and in the back of the big
account-book that lay under the flap of Mahbub's
pet saddle Kim fell to work.
" It must hold everything that thou hast seen or
touched or considered. Write as though the Jang-
i-Lat Sahib himself had come by stealth with a vast
army outsetting to war."
278
KIM
" How great an army ? "
"Oh, half a lakh of men."
" Folly ! Remember how few and bad were the
wells in the sand. Not a thousand thirsty men
could come near by here."
"Then write that down — also all the old
breaches in the walls — and whence the firewood
is cut — and what is the temper and disposition
of the King. I stay here till all my horses are
sold. I will hire a room by the gateway, and thou
shalt be my accountant. There is a good lock to
the door,"
The report in its unmistakable St. Xavier's
running script, and the brown, yellow, and lake-
daubed map, was on hand a few years ago (a care-
less clerk filed it with the rough notes of E.23's
second Seistan survey), but by now the pencil
characters must be almost illegible. Kim trans-
lated it, sweating under the light of an oil-lamp, to
Mahbub, the second day of their return journey.
The Pathan rose and stooped over his dappled
saddle-bags.
" I knew it would be worthy a dress of honour,
and so I made one ready," he said smiling. "Were
I Amir of Afghanistan (and some day we may
see him), I would fill thy mouth with gold." He
laid the garments formally at Kim's feet. There
was a gold-embroidered Peshawur turban-cap,
rising to a cone, and a big turban-cloth ending
279
KIM
in a broad fringe of gold. There was a Delhi
embroidered waistcoat to slip over a milky-white
shirt, fastening to the right, ample and flowing;
green pyjamas with twisted silk waist-string; and
that nothing might be lacking, russia-leather slip-
pers, smelling divinely, with arrogantly curled tips.
" Upon a Wednesday, and in the morning, to
put on new clothes is auspicious," said Mahbub
solemnly. " But we must not forget the wicked
folk in the world. So I "
He capped all the splendour, that was taking
Kim's delighted breath away, with a mother-of-
pearl, nickel-plated, self-extracting .450 revolver.
" I had thought of a smaller bore, but reflected
that this takes Government bullets. A man can
always come by those — especially across the Border.
Stand up and let me look." He clapped Kim on
the shoulder. " May you never be tired, Pathan I
Oh, the hearts to be broken I Oh, the eyes under
the eyelashes looking sideways I "
Kim turned about, pointed his toes, stretched,
and felt mechanically for the moustache that was
just beginning. Then he stooped towards Mahbub's
feet to make proper acknowledgment with flutter-
ing, quick-patting hands; his heart too full for
words. Mahbub forestalled and embraced him.
"My son," said he, "what need of words be-
tween us? But is not the little gun a delight?
All six cartridges come out at one twist. It is
280
KIM
borne in the bosom next the skin, which, as it
were, keeps it oiled. Never put it elsewhere, and
please God, thou shalt some day kill a man with it."
^''Hai mai!" said Kim ruefully. " If a Sahib
kills a man he is hung in the jail."
" True : but one pace beyond the Border, men
are wiser. Put it away; but fill it first. Of what
use is a gun unfed"? "
" When I go back to the madrissah I must
return it. They do not allow little guns. Thou
wilt keep it for me *? "
" Son, I am wearied of that ?nadrissah, where
they take the best years of a man to teach him
what he can only learn upon the Road. The
folly of the Sahibs has neither top nor bottom.
No matter. Maybe thy written report shall save
thee further bondage ; and God He knows we
need men more and more in the Game."
They marched, jaw-bound against blowing sand,
across the salt desert to Jodhpore, where Mahbub
and his handsome nephew Habib Ullah did much
trading ; and then sorrowfully, in European clothes,
which he was fast outgrowing, Kim went second-
class to St. Xavier's. Three weeks later. Colonel
Creighton, pricing Tibetan ghost-daggers at Lur-
gan's shop, faced Mahbub Ali openly mutinous.
Lurgan Sahib operated as support in reserve.
" The pony is made — finished — mouthed and
paced, Sahib I From now on, day by day, he
281
KIiM
will lose his manners if he is kept at tricks.
Drop the rein on his back and let go," said the
horse-dealer. " We need him."
" But he is so young, Mahbub — not more
than sixteen — is he ? "
" When I was fifteen I had shot my man and
begot my man, Sahib."
" You impenitent old heathen." Creighton
turned to Lurgan. The black beard nodded
assent to the wisdom of the Afghan's dyed
scarlet.
" / should have used him long ago," said Lur-
gan. " The younger the better. That is why I
always have my really valuable jewels watched by
a child. You sent him to me to try. I tried him
in every way : he is the only boy I could not make
to see things."
" In the crystal — in the ink-pool ? " demanded
Mahbub.
" No. Under my hand, as I told you. That has
never happened before. It means that he is strong
enough — but you think it skittles. Colonel Creigh-
ton — to make any one do anything he wants. And
that is three years ago. I have taught him a good
deal since. Colonel Creighton. I think you waste
him now."
" Hmm ! Maybe you're right. But, as you
know, there is no Survey work for him at
present."
282
KIM
" Let him out — let him go," Mahbub inter-
rupted. " Who expects any colt to carry heavy
weight at first? Let him run with the caravans
like our white camel-colts — for luck. I would
take him myself, but — "
" There is a little business where he would be
most useful — in the South," said Lurgan, with
peculiar suavity, dropping his heavy blued eye-
lids.
"E.23 has that in hand," said Creighton quickly.
" He must not go down there. Besides, he knows
no Turki."
" Only tell him the shape and the smell of the
letters we want and he will bring them back,"
Lurgan insisted.
" No. That is a man's job," said Creighton.
It was a wry-necked matter of unauthorised and
incendiary correspondence between a person who
claimed to be the ultimate authority in all matters
of the Mohammedan religion throughout the
world, and a younger member of a royal house
who had been brought to book for kidnapping
women within British territory. The Moslem
Archbishop had been emphatic and over-arrogant ;
the young prince was merely sulky at the curtail-
ment of his privileges, but there was no need he
should continue a correspondence which might
some day compromise him. One letter indeed
had been procured, but the finder was later found
283
KIM
dead by the roadside in the habit oi an Arab
trader, as E.23, taking up the work, duly reported.
These facts, and a few others not to be pub-
lished, made both Mahbub and Creighton shake
their heads.
" Let him go out with his Red Lama," said the
horse-dealer with visible effort. " He is fond of
the old man. He can learn his paces by the rosary
at least."
" I have had some dealings with the old man —
by letter," said Colonel Creighton, smiling to him-
self " Whither goes he ? "
"Up and down the land, as he has these three
years. He seeks a River of Healing. God's curse
upon all — " Mahbub checked himself "He
beds down at the Temple of the Tirthankers or
at Buddh Gaya when he is in from the Road.
Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah^ as we
know, for the boy was punished for it twice or
thrice. He is quite mad, but a peaceful man. I
have met him. The Babu also has had dealings
with him. We have watched him for three years.
Red Lamas are not so common in Hind that one
loses track."
" Babus are very curious," said Lurgan medita-
tively. "Do you know what Hurree Babu really
wants % He wants to be made a member of the
Royal Society by taking ethnological notes. I
tell you, I tell him about the lama everything
284
KIM
that Mahbub and the boy have told me. Hurree
Babii goes down to Benares — at his own expense,
I think."
"• / don't," said Creighton briefly. He had paid
Hurree's travelling expenses, out of a most lively
curiosity to learn what the lama might be.
" And he applies to the lama for information
on lamaism, and devil dances, and spells and
charms, several times in these few years. Holy
Virgin ! I could have told him all that yee-ars
ago. I think Hurree Babu is getting too old for
the Road. He likes better to collect manners
and customs information. Yes, he wants to be
an F.R.S."
" Hurree thinks well of the boy, doesn't he ? "
" Oh, very indeed — we have had some pleas-
ant evenings at my little place — but I think it
would be waste to throw him away with Hurree
on the Ethnological side."
"Not for a first experience. How does that
strike you, Mahbub ^ Let the boy run with the
lama for six months. After that we can see. He
will get experience."
" He has it already, Sahib — as a fish controls
the water he swims in; but for every reason it will
be well to loose him from the school."
" Very good, then," said Creighton, half to him-
self " He can go with the lama, and if Hurree
Babu cares to keep an eye on them so much the
285
KIM
better. He won't lead the boy into any danger
as Mahbub would. Curious — his wish to be
an F.R.S. Very human, too. He is best on the
Ethnological side — Hurree."
No money and no preferment would have drawn
Creighton from his work on the Indian Survey,
but deep in his heart also lay the ambition to
write " F.R.S." after his name. Honours of a sort
he knew could be obtained by ingenuity and the
help of friends, but, to the best of his belief, noth-
ing save work — papers representing a life of it
— took a man into the Society which he had
bombarded for years with monographs on strange
Asiatic cults and unknown customs. Nine men
out of ten would flee from a Royal Society soiree
in extremity of boredom ; but Creighton was the
tenth, and at times his soul yearned for the
crowded rooms in easy London where silver-
haired, bald-headed gentlemen who know nothing
of the Army move among spectroscopic experi-
ments, the lesser plants of the frozen tundras, elec-
tric flight-measuring machines, and apparatus for
slicing into fractional millimetres the left eye of
the female mosquito. By all right and reason, it
was the Royal Geographical that should have ap-
pealed to him, but men are as chancy as children
in their choice of playthings. So Creighton
smiled, and thought the better of Hurree Babu,
moved by like desire.
286
KIM
He dropped the ghost-dagger and looked up at
Mahbub.
"How soon can we get the colt from the stable?"
said the horse-dealer, reading his eyes.
" Hmm ! If I withdraw him by order now —
what will he do, think you ? I have never before
assisted at the teaching of such an one."
" He will come to me," said Mahbub promptly.
" Lurgan Sahib and I will prepare him for the
Road."
" So be it, then. For six months he shall run
at his choice : but who will be his sponsor ? "
Lurgan slightly inclined his head. " He will
not tell anything, if that is what you are afraid of.
Colonel Creighton."
" It's only a boy, after all."
"Ye-es; but first, he has nothing to tell; and
secondly, he knows what would happen. Also, he
is very fond of Mahbub, and of me a little."
"Will he draw pay*?" demanded the practical
horse-dealer.
" Food and water allowance only. Twenty rupees
a month."
One advantage of the Secret Service is that it
has no worrying audit. The service is ludicrously
starved, of course, but the funds are administered
by a few men who do not call for vouchers or
present itemised accounts. Mahbub's eyes lighted
with almost a Sikh's love of money. Even Lurgan's
287
KIM
impassive face changed. He considered the years
to come when Kim would have been entered and
made to the Great Game that never ceases day
and night, throughout India. He foresaw honour
and credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming
to him from his pupil. Lurgan Sahib had made
E.23 what E.23 was, out of a bewildered, imper-
tinent, lying little North-West Province man.
But the joy of these masters was pale and
smoky beside the joy of Kim when St. Xavier's
Head called him aside, with word that Colonel
Creighton had sent for him.
" I understand, O'Hara, that he has found you
a place as an assistant chain-man in the Canal
Department: that comes of taking up mathematics.
It is great luck for you, for you are only seven-
teen ; but of course you understand that you do
not become pukka (permanent) till you have passed
the autumn examination. So you must not think
you are going out into the world to enjoy yourself,
or that your fortune is made. There is a great
deal of hard work before you. Only, if you
succeed in becoming pukkd^ you can rise, you
know, to four hundred and fifty a month." Where-
at the Principal gave him much good advice
as to his conduct, and his manners, and his morals;
and others, his elders, who had not been wafted
into billets, talked, as only Anglo-Indian lads can,
of favouritism and corruption. Indeed, young
288
KIM
Cazalet, whose father was a pensioner at Chunar,
hinted very broadly that Colonel Creighton's in-
terest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim,
instead of retaliating, did not even use language.
He was thinking of the immense fun to come, of
Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly written
in English, making appointment for that afternoon
in a house the very name of which would have
crisped the Principal's hair with horror. . . .
Said Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway
station that evening, above the luggage-scales — " I
feared lest, at the last, the roof would fall upon me
and cheat me. Is it indeed all finished, O my
father?"
Mahbub snapped his fingers to show the utter-
ness of that end, and his eyes blazed like red
coals.
" Then where is the pistol that I may wear it ?"
" Softly ! A half-year, to run without heel-ropes.
I begged that much from Colonel Creighton Sahib.
At twenty rupees a month. Old Red Hat knows
that thou art coming."
"I will pay thee dustoorie (commission) on my
pay for three months," said Kim gravely. " Yea,
two rupees a month. But first we must get rid
of these." He plucked his thin linen trousers
and dragged at his collar. " I have brought
with me all that I need on the Road. My trunk
has gone up to Lurgan Sahib's."
289
KIM
" Who sends his salaams to thee — Sahib."
" Lurgan Sahib is a very clever man. But what
dost thou do *? "
" I go North again, upon the Great Game.
What else ? Is thy mind still set on following
old Red Hat?"
" Do not forget he made me that I am — though
he did not know it. Year by year, he sent the
money that taught me."
" I would have done as much — had it struck
my thick head," Mahbub growled. " Come away.
The lamps are lit now, and none will mark thee in
the bazar. We go to Huneefa's house."
On the way thither, Mahbub gave him much
the same sort of advice as his mother gave to Lem-
uel, and curiously enough, Mahbub was exact to
point out how Huneefa and her likes destroyed
Kings.
"And I remember," he quoted maliciously, "one
who said, ' Trust a snake before a harlot, and a har-
lot before a Pathan, Mahbub Ali.' Now, excepting
as to Pathans, of whom I am one, all that is true.
Most true is it in the Great Game, for it is by
means of women that all plans come to ruin and
we lie out in dawning with our throats cut. So
it happened to such a one," — he gave the reddest
particulars.
"Then why — ?" Kim paused before a filthy
staircase that climbed to the warm darkness of an
290
KIM
upper chamber, in the ward that is behind Azim
UUah's tobacco-shop. Those who know it call it
The Bird-cage — it is so full of whisperings and
whistlings and chirrupings.
The room, with its dirty cushions and half-
smoked hookahs, smelt abominably of stale to-
bacco. In one corner lay a huge and shapeless
woman clad in greenish gauzes, and decked, brow,
nose, ear, neck, wrist, arm, waist, and ankle, with
heavy native jewellery. When she turned it was
like the clashing of copper pots. A lean cat in
the balcony outside the window mewed hungrily.
Kim checked, bewildered, at the door-curtain.
" Is that the new stuff, Mahbub ? " said Hu-
neefa lazily, scarce troubling to remove the mouth-
piece from her lips. "O Buktanoos!" — like most
of her kind, she swore by the Djinns — "O Bukta-
noos ! He is very good to look upon."
" That is part of the selling of the horse," Mah-
bub explained to Kim, who laughed.
"I have heard that talk since my Sixth Day,"
he replied, squatting by the light. "Whither does
it lead ? "
"To protection. To-night we change thy colour.
This sleeping under roofs has blanched thee like an
almond. But Huneefa has the secret of a colour
that catches. No painting of a day or two. Also,
we fortify thee against the chances of the Road.
That is my gift to thee, my son. Take out all
291
KIM
metals on thee and lay them here. Make ready,
Huneefa."
Kim dragged forth his compass, Survey paint-
box, and the new-filled medicine-box. They had
all accompanied his travels, and boy-like he valued
them immensely.
The woman rose slowly and moved with her
hands a little spread before her. Then Kim saw
that she was blind. "No, no," she muttered, "the
Pathan speaks truth — my colour does not go in a
week or a month, and those whom I protect are
under strong guard."
" When one is far off and alone, it would not be
well to grow blotched and leprous of a sudden,"
said Mahbub. " When thou wast with me I
could oversee the matter. Besides, a Pathan is a
fairskin. Strip to the waist now and look how thou
art whitened." Huneefa felt her way back from
an inner room. " It is no matter, she cannot see."
He took a pewter bowl from her ringed hand.
The dye-stuff showed blue and gummy. Kim
experimented on the back of his wrist, with a dab
of cotton-wool ; but Huneefa heard him.
"No, no," she cried, "the thing is not done
thus, but with the proper ceremonies. The colour-
ing is the least part. I give thee the full protec-
tion of the Road."
"•Jadoo?"' (magic), said Kim, with a half start.
He did not like the white, sightless eyes. Mah-
292
KIM
bub's hand on his neck bowed him to the floor,
nose within an inch of the boards.
" Be still. No harm comes to thee, my son. I
am thy sacrifice I "
He could not see what the woman was about,
but heard the clish-clash of her jewellery for many
minutes. A match lit up the darkness ; he caught
the well-known purr and fizzle of grains of incense.
Then the room filled with smoke — heavy, aro-
matic, and stupefying. Through growing drowse
he heard the names of devils — of Zulbazan, Son
of Eblis, who lives in bazars and faraos^ making
all the sudden lewd wickedness of wayside halts ;
of Dulhan, invisible about mosques, the dweller
among the slippers of the Faithful, who hinders
folk from their prayers; and Musboot, Lord of
lies and panic. Huneefa, now whispering in his
ear, now talking as from an immense distance,
touched him with horrible soft fingers, but Mah-
bub's grip never shifted from his neck till, relaxing
with a sigh, the boy lost his senses.
" Allah ! How he fought ! We should never
have done it but for the drugs. That was his White
blood, I take it," said Mahbub testily. "Go on with
the dawut (invocation). Give him full Protection."
" 0 Hearer ! T'hou that hearest zvitJo ears, be present.
Listen^ 0 Hearer!" Huneefa moaned, her dead
eyes turned to the west The dark room filled
with moanings and snortings.
293
KIM
From the outer balcony, a ponderous figure
raised a round bullet head and coughed nervously.
" Do not interrupt this ventriloquial necro-
manciss, my friend," it said in English. " I opine
that it is very disturbing to you, but no enlightened
observer is jolly well upset."
". . . / ivill lay a plot for their ruin ! 0 Prophet,
bear with the unbelievers. Let them alone awhile ! "
Huneefa's face, turned to the northward, worked
horribly, and it was as though voices from the
ceiling answered her.
Hurree Babu returned to his note-book, balanced
on the window-sill, but his hand shook. Huneefa,
in some sort of drugged ecstasy, wrenched herself
to and fro as she sat cross-legged by Kim's still
head, and called upon devil after devil, in the
ancient order of the ritual, binding them to avoid
the boy's every action.
'-^With Him are the keys of the Secret 'things! None
knoweth the?n beside Hifnself He knoweth that which
is in the dry land and in the sea I " Again broke out
the unearthly whistling responses.
"I — I apprehend it is not at all malignant in
its operation ? " said the Babu, watching the throat-
muscles quiver and jerk as Huneefa spoke with
tongues. " It — it is not likely that she has killed the
boy*? If so, I decline to be witness at the trial. . . .
What was the last hypothetical devil mentioned *? "
" Babuji," said Mahbub in the vernacular, " I
294
KIM
have no regard for the devils of Hind, but the Sons
of Eblis are far otherwise, and whether they be
jumalee (well-affected) or jullalee (terrible) they
love not Kafirs."
" Then you think I had better go ? " said Hurree
Babu, half rising. " They are, of course, de-
materialised phenomena. Spencer says — "
Huneefa's crisis passed, as these things must, in
a paroxysm of howling, with a touch of froth at
the lips. She lay spent and motionless beside
Kim, and the crazy voices ceased.
" Wah ! That work is done. May the boy be
better for it ; and Huneefa is surely a mistress of
dawut. Help haul her aside, Babu. Do not be
afraid."
" How am I to fear the absolutely non-existent?"
said Hurree Babu, talking English to reassure him-
self It is an awful thing still to dread the magic
that you contemptuously investigate — to collect
folk-lore for the Royal Society with a lively belief
in all Powers of Darkness.
Mahbub chuckled. He had been out with
Hurree on the Road ere now. " Let us finish
the colouring," said he. " The boy is well pro-
tected if — if the Lords of the Air have ears to
hear. I am a siifi (free-thinker), but when one can
get blind-sides of a woman, a stallion, or a devil,
why go round to invite a kick ? Set him upon
the way, Babu, and see that old Red Hat does not
295
KIM
lead him beyond our reach. I must get back to
my horses."
" All raight," said Hurree Babu. " He is at
present a curious spectacle."
About third cockcrow, Kim woke after a sleep
of thousands of years. Huneefa, in her corner,
snored heavily, but Mahbub was gone.
" I hope you were not frightened," said an oily
voice at his elbow. " I superintended entire opera-
tion, which was most interesting from ethnological
point of view. It was high-class clawut."
"Huh I" said Kim, recognising Hurree Babu,
who smiled ingratiatingly.
"And also I had honour to bring down from
Lurgan your present costume. I am not in the
habit ofTeecially of carrying such gauds to sub-
ordinates, but" — he giggled — "your case is noted
as exceptional on the books. I hope Mr. Lurgan
will note my action."
Kim yawned and stretched himself It was
good to turn and twist within loose clothes once
again.
"What is this? " He looked curiously at the
heavy duffle-stuff loaded with the scents of the far
North.
"Oho! That is inconspicuous dress of chela
attached to service of lamaistic lama. Ctf;/zplete
in every particular," said Hurree Babu, rolling into
296
KIM
the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglct. " I am
of opeenion it is not your old gentleman's precise
religion, but rather sub-variant of same. I have
contributed rejected notes to Asiatic ^arterly
Review on these subjects. Now it is curious that
the old gentleman himself is totally devoid of
religiosity. He is not a dam particular."
" Do you know him"? "
Hurree Babu held up his hand to show he was
engaged in the prescribed rites that accompany
tooth-cleaning and such things among decently
bred Bengalis. Then he recited in English an
Arya-Somaj prayer of a theistical nature, and
stuffed his mouth with pan and betel.
"Oah yes. I have met him several times at
Benares, and also at Buddh Gaya, to interrogate
him on religious points and devil-worship. He is
pure agnostic — same as me."
Huneefa stirred in her sleep, and Hurree Babu
jumped nervously to the copper incense-burner, all
black and discoloured in morning-light, rubbed a
finger in the accumulated lampblack, and drew it
diagonally across his face.
" Who has died in thy house ? " asked Kim in
the vernacular.
"None. But she may have the Evil Eye —
that sorceress," the Babu replied.
" What dost thou do now, then *? "
" I will set thee on thy way to Benares, if thou
297
KIM
goest thither, and tell thee what must be known
by Us."
" I go. At what hour runs the te-rain ? " He
rose to his feet, looked round the desolate chamber
and at the yellow-wax face of Huneefa as the low
sun stole across the floor. " Is there money to be
paid that witch ? "
"No. She has charmed thee against all devils
and all dangers — in the name of her devils. It
was Mahbub's desire." In English : " He is
highly obsolete, / think, to indulge in such super-
steetion. Why, it is all ventri/(?quy. Belly-speak
— eh?"
Kim snapped his fingers mechanically to avert
whatever evil — Mahbub, he knew, meditated
none — might have crept in through Huneefa's
ministrations; and Hurree giggled once more.
But as he crossed the room he was careful not to
step in Huneefa's blotched, squat shadow on the
boards. Witches — when their time is on them
— can lay hold of the heels of a man's soul if he
does that.
" Now you must well listen," said the Babu
when they were in the fresh air. " Part of these
ceremonies which we witnessed they include sup-
ply of effeecient amulet to those of our Depart-
ment. If you feel in your neck you will find one
small silver amulet, verree cheap. That is ours.
Do you understand % "
298
KIM
" Oah yes, hawa-dilli (a heart-lifter)," said Kim,
feeling at his neck.
" Huneefa she makes them for two rupees twelve
annas with — oh, all sorts of exorcisms. They are
quite common, except they are partially black
enamel, and there is a paper inside each one full of
names of local saints and such things. T'hcitt is
Huneefa's look-out, you see ? Huneefa makes
them onlee for us, but in case she does not, when
we get them we put in, before issue, one small
piece of turquoise. Mr. Lurgan he gives them.
There is no other source of supply; but it was
me invented all this. It is strictly unoffeecial of
course, but convenient for subordinates. Colonel
Creighton he does not know. He is European.
The turquoise is wrapped in the paper. . . . Yes,
that is road to railway station. . . . Now suppose
you go with the lama, or with me, I hope, some
day, or with Mahbub. Suppose we get into a
dam-tight place. I am a fearful man — most fear-
ful— but I tell you I have been in dam-tight
places more than hairs on my head. You say :
' I am Son of the Charm.' Verree good."
" I do not understand quite. We must not be
heard talking English here."
" That is all raight. I am only Babu showing
off my English to you. All we Babus talk Eng-
lish to show off," said Hurree, flinging his shoulder-
cloth jauntily. " As I was about to say, ' Son of
299
KIM
the Charm ' means that you may be member of the
Sat Bhai — the Seven Brothers, which is Hindi and
Tantric. It is popularly supposed to be extinct
society, but I have written notes to show it is still
extant. You see it is all my invention. Verree
good. Sat Bhai has many members, and perhaps
before they jolly-well-cut-your-throat they may give
you just a chance for life. That is useful, anyhow.
And moreover, these foolish natives — if they are
not too excited — they always stop to think before
they kill a man who says he belongs to any spee-
cific organisation. You see *? You say then when
you are in tight place, ' I am Son of the Charm,'
and you get — perhaps — ah — your second wind.
That is only in extreme instances, or to open ne-
gotiations with a stranger. Can you quite see *?
Verree good. But suppose now I, or any one of
the Department, come to you dressed quite differ-
ent. You would not know me at all unless I
choose, I bet you. Some day I will prove it.
I come as Ladakhi trader — oh anything — and I
say to you : ' You want to buy precious stones ? '
You say : ' Do I look like a man who buys pre-
cious stones"?' Then I say: * Even verree poor
man can buy a turquoise or tarheean.' "
"That is kickree — vegetable curry," said Kim.
" Of course it is. You say : ' Let me see the
tarkeean' Then I say : * It was cooked by a wo-
man, and perhaps it is bad for your caste.' Then
you say : ' There is no caste when men go to —
300
KIM
look for tarkecan* You stop a little between those
words, ' to — look.' That is thee whole secret.
The little stop before the words."
Kim repeated the test-sentence.
"That is all raight. Then I will show you my
turquoise if there is time, and then you know who
I am, and then we exchange views and documents
and those-all things. And so it is with any other
man of us. We talk sometimes about turquoises
and sometimes about tarkeean^ but always with
that little stop in the words. It is verree easy.
First, ' Son of the Charm,' if you are in a tight
place. Perhaps that may help you — perhaps not.
Then what I have told you about the tarkeean^ if
you want to transact offeecial business with a
strange man. Of course, at present, you have no
offeecial business. You are — ah ha ! — super-
numerary on probation. Quite unique specimen.
If you were Asiatic of birth you might be em-
ployed right off; but this half-year of leave is to
make you de-Englishised, you see *? The lama,
he expects you, because I have demi-offeecially
informed him you have passed all your examina-
tions, and will soon obtain Government appoint-
ment. Oh ho ! You are on acting-allowance, you
see : so if you are called upon to help Sons of the
Charm, mind you jolly well try. Now I shall say
good-bye, my dear fellow, and I hope you — ah —
will come out top-side all raight."
Hurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into
301
KIiM
the crowd at the entrance of Lucknow station and
— was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged
himself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he
could feel in the bosom of his sad-coloured robe,
the amulet was on his neck ; begging-gourd, rosary,
and ghost-dagger (Mr. Lurgan had forgotten noth-
ing) were all to hand, with medicine, paint-box,
and compass, and in a worn old purse-belt em-
broidered with porcupine quill-patterns lay a
month's pay. Kings could be no richer. He
bought sweetmeats in a leaf-cup from a Hindu
trader, and ate them with glad rapture till a police-
man ordered him off the steps.
302
XI
Give the man who is not made
To his trade
Swords to fling and catch again.
Coins to ring and snatch again.
Men to harm and cure again.
Snakes to charm and lure again —
He'll be hurt by his own blade.
By his serpents disobeyed.
By his clumsiness bewrayed.
By the people mocked to scorn —
So 'tis not with juggler born.
Pinch of dust or withered flower.
Chance-flung fruit or borrowed staff".
Serve his need and shore his power.
Bind the spell, or loose the laugh!
But a man who, etc.. Op. 15.
Followed a sudden natural reaction.
"Now am I alone — all alone," he thought. "In
all India is no one so alone as 1 1 If I die to-day,
who shall bring the news — and to whom *? If I
live and God is good, there will be a price upon
my head, for I am a Son of the Charm — I,
Kim."
KIM
A very few white people, but many Asiatics,
can throw themselves into a mazement as it were
by repeating their own names over and over again
to themselves, letting the mind go free upon
speculation as to what is called personal identity.
When one grows older, the power, usually, de-
parts, but while it lasts it may descend upon a
man at any moment.
" Who is Kim — Kim — Kim ? "
He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-
room, rapt from all other thoughts; hands folded
in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a
minute — in another half-second — he felt he would
arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle ;
but here, as always happens, his mind dropped
away from those heights with the rush of a
wounded bird, and passing his hand before his
eyes, he shook his head.
A long-haired Hindu hairagi (holy man), who
had just bought a ticket, halted before him at that
moment and stared intently.
" I also have lost it," he said sadly. " It is one
of the Gates to the Way, but for me it has been
shut many years."
" What is the talk ? " said Kim, abashed.
" Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what
manner of thing thy soul might be. The seizure
came of a sudden. / know. Who should know
but I ? Whither goest thou ? "
304
KIM
"Toward Kashi (Benares)."
" There are no Gods there. I have proved
them. I go to Prayag (Allahabad) for the fifth
time — seeking the road to Enhghtenment. Of
what faith art thou ? "
" I too am a Seeker," said Kim, using one of
the lama's pet words. " Though " — he forgot his
Northern dress for the moment — " though Allah
alone knoweth what I seek."
The old fellow slipped the bairagPs crutch under
his armpit and sat down on a patch of ruddy
leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the
Benares train.
" Go in hope, little brother," he said. " It is a
long road to the feet of the One; but thither do we
all travel."
Kim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he
had sat out twenty miles in the crowded compart-
ment, was cheering his neighbours with a string of
most wonderful yarns about his own and his mas-
ter's magical gifts.
Benares struck him as a peculiarly filthy city,
though it was pleasant to find how his cloth was
respected. At least one-third of the population
prays eternally to some group or other of the
many million deities, and so revere every sort of
holy man. Kim was guided to the Temple of the
Tirthankers, about a mile outside the city, near
Sarnath, by a chance-met Punjabi farmer — a Kam-
KIM
boh from Jullunder-way who had appealed in vain
to every God of his homestead to cure his small
son, and was trying Benares as a last resort.
"Thou art from the North?" he asked, shoulder-
ing through the press of the narrow, stinking streets
much like his own pet bull at home.
" Ay, I know the Punjab. My mother was a
Pahareen, but my father came from Amritzar —
by Jandiala," said Kim, oiling his ready tongue
for the needs of the Road.
"Jandiala — Jullunder ? Oho! Then we be
neighbours in some sort, as it were." He nodded
tenderly to the wailing child in his arms. " Whom
dost thou serve ? "
"A most holy man at the Temple of the Tir-
thankers."
"They are all most holy and — most greedy,"
said the Jat with bitterness. " I have walked the
pillars and trodden the temples till my feet are
flayed, and the child is no whit better. And the
mother being sick too. . . . Hush, then, little one.
. . . We changed his name when the fever
came. We put him into girl's clothes. There
was nothing we did not do, except — I said to his
mother when she bundled me off to Benares —
she should have come with me — I said Sakhi
Sarwar Sultan would serve us best. We know
His generosity, but these down-country Gods are
strangers."
306
KIM
The child turned on the cushion of the huge
corded arms and looked at Kim through heavy
eyehds.
" And was it all worthless *? " Kim asked, with
easy interest.
"All worthless — all worthless," said the child,
lips cracking with fever.
"The Gods have given him a good mind, at
least," said the father proudly. " To think he
should have listened so cleverly. Yonder is thy
temple. Now I am a poor man, — many priests
have dealt with me, — but my son is my son, and
if a gift to thy master can cure him — I am at my
very wits' end."
Kim considered for awhile, tingling with
pride. Three years ago he would have made
prompt profit on the situation and gone his way
without a thought ; but now, the very respect the
Jat paid him proved that he was a man. More-
over, he had tasted fever once or twice already,
and knew enough to recognise starvation when he
saw it.
" Call him forth and I will give him a bond on
my best yoke, so that the child is cured."
Kim halted at the carved outer door of the
temple. A white-clad Oswal banker from Ajmir,
his sins of usury new wiped out, asked him what
he did.
" I am chela to Teshoo Lama, an Holy One
KIM
from Bhotiyal — within there. He bade me
come. I wait. Tell him."
"Do not forget the child," cried the importunate
Jat over his shoulder, and then bellowed in Pun-
jabi: "O Holy One — O disciple of the Holy One
— O Gods above all the Worlds — behold affliction
sitting at the gate ! " That cry is so common in
Benares that the passers never turned their heads.
The Oswal, at peace with mankind, carried the
message into the darkness behind him, and the
easy, uncounted Eastern minutes slid by; for the
lama was asleep in his cell, and no priest would
wake him. When the click of his rosary again
broke the hush of the inner court where the calm
images of the Arhats stand, a novice whispered,
" Thy chela is here," and the old man strode forth,
forgetting the end of that prayer.
Hardly had the tall figure shown in the door-
way than the Jat ran before him, and, lifting up
the child, cried : " Look upon this. Holy One ;
and if the Gods will, he lives — he lives!"
He fumbled in his waist-belt and drew out a
small silver coin.
"What is now?" The lama's eyes turned to
Kim. It was noticeable he spoke far clearer
Urdu than long ago, under Zam-Zammah; but the
father would allow no private talk.
" It is no more than a fever," said Kim. " The
child is not well fed."
308
THE JAT AND HIS SICK CHILD
KIM
from Bhotiyal — within there. He bade me
come. I wait. Tell him."
"Do not forget the child," cried the importunate
Jat over his shoulder, and then bellowed in Pun-
jabi: "O Holy One — O disciple of the Holy One
— O Gods above all the Worlds — behold affliction
sitting at the gate ! " That cry is so common in
Benares that the passers never turned their heads.
The Oswal, at peace with mankind, carried the
message into the darkness behind him, and the
easy, uncounted Eastern minutes slid by ; for the
lama was asleep in his cell, and no priest would
wake him. When the click of his rosary again
broke the hush of the inner court where the calm
images of the Arhats stand, a novice whispered,
" Thy chela is here," and the old man strode forth,
forgetting the end of that prayer.
Hardly had the tall figure shown in the door-
way than the Jat ran before him, and, lifting up
the child, cried : " Look upon this. Holy One ;
and if the Gods will, he lives — he lives I"
He fumbled in his waist-belt and drew out a
small silver coin.
" What is now •? " The lama's eyes turned to
Kim. It was noticeable he spoke far clearer
Urdu than long ago, under Zam-Zammah; but the
father would allow no private talk.
" It is no more than a fever," said Kim. " The
child is nauraU) fori^ici 81H anA ta.i bht
308
KIM
" He sickens at everything, and his mother is
not here."
" If it be permitted, I may cure, Holy One."
" What ! Have they made thee a Healer ?
Wait here," said the lama, and he sat down by the
Jat upon the lowest step of the temple, while Kim,
looking out of the corner of his eyes, slowly opened
the little betel-box. He had dreamed dreams at
school of returning to the lama as a Sahib — of
chaffing the old man before he revealed himself —
boy's dreams all. There was more drama in this
abstracted, brow-puckered search through the tab-
loid-bottles, with a pause here and there for thought
and a muttered invocation between whiles. Quinine
he had in tablets, and dark brown meat-lozenges —
beef most probably, but that was not his business.
The little thing would not eat, but it sucked at a
lozenge greedily, and said it liked the salt taste.
" Take then these six." Kim handed them to
the man. "Praise the Gods, and boil three in
milk ; other three in water. After he has drunk
the milk give him this (it was the half of a quinine
pill), and wrap him warm. Give him the water of
the other three, and the other half of this white
pill when he wakes. Meantime, here is another
brown medicine that he may suck at on the way
home."
" Gods, what wisdom I " said the Kamboh,
snatching.
KIM
It was as much as Kim could remember of his
own treatment in a bout of autumn malaria — if
you except the patter that he added to impress the
lama.
" Now go ! Come again in the morning."
"But the price — the price," said the Jat, and
threw back his sturdy shoulders. " My son is my
son. Now that he will be whole again, how shall
I go back to his mother and say I took help by
the wayside and did not even give a bowl of curds
in return *? "
"They are alike, these Jats," said Kim softly.
" The Jat stood on his dunghill and the King's
elephants went by. ' O driver,' said he, ' what
will you sell those little donkeys for *? ' "
The Jat burst into a roar of laughter, stifled with
apologies to the lama. " It is the saying of my own
country — the very talk of it. So are we Jats all.
I will come to-morrow with the child ; and
the blessing of the Gods of the Homesteads —
who are good little Gods — be on you both. . . .
Now, son, we grow strong again. Do not spit it
out, little Princeling! King of my Heart, do not
spit it out, and we shall be strong men, wrestlers
and club-wielders, by morning."
He moved away, crooning and mumbling. The
lama turned to Kim, and all the loving old soul oi
him looked out through his narrow eyes.
" To heal the sick is to acquire merit ; but first
310
KIM
one gets knowledge. That was wisely done, O
Friend of all the World."
" I was made wise by thee, Holy One," said
Kim, forgetting the little play just ended; forget-
ting St. Xavier's; forgetting his white blood; for-
getting even the Great Game as he stooped,
Mohammedan fashion, to touch his master's feet
in the dust of the Jain temple. " My teaching I
owe to thee. I have eaten thy bread three years.
My time is finished. I am loosed from the schools.
I come to thee."
" Herein is my reward. Enter I Enter ! And
is all well ? " They passed to the inner court,
where the afternoon sun sloped golden across.
" Stand that I may see. So I " He peered criti-
cally. " It is no longer a child, but a man, ripened
in wisdom, walking as a physician. I did well —
I did well when I gave thee up to the armed men
on that black night. Dost thou remember our first
day under Zam-Zammah ? "
" Ay," said Kim. " Dost thou remember when
I leapt off the carriage the first day I went to — "
" The Gates of Learning ? Truly. And the
day that we ate the cakes together at the back of
the river by Nucklao. Aha I Many times hast
thou begged for me, but that day I begged for
thee."
" Good reason," quoth Kim. " I was then a
scholar in the Gates of Learning, and attired as a
KIM
Sahib. Do not forget. Holy One," he went on
playfully, " I am still a Sahib — by thy favour."
" True. And a Sahib in most high esteem.
Come to my cell, chela"
" How is that known to thee ? "
The lama smiled. "First by means of letters
from the kindly priest whom we met in the camp
of armed men ; but he is now gone to his own
country, and I sent the money to his brother."
Colonel Creighton, who had succeeded to the trus-
teeship when Father Victor went to England with
the Mavericks, was hardly the chaplain's brother.
" But I do not well understand Sahibs' letters.
They must be interpreted to me. I chose a surer
way. Many times when I returned from my
Search to this temple, which has always been a
nest to me, there came one seeking Enlightenment
— a man from Leh — that had been, he said, a
Hindu, but wearied of all those Gods." The lama
pointed to the Arhats.
" A fat man ? " said Kim, a twinkle in his eye.
" Very fat ; but I perceived in a little his mind
was wholly given up to useless things — such as
devils and charms and the form and fashion of our
tea-drinkings in the monasteries, and by what road
we initiated the novices. A man abounding in
questions; but he was a friend of thine, chela. He
told me that thou wast on the road to much hon-
our as a scribe. And I see thou art a physician."
312
KIM
" Yes, that am I — a scribe, when I am a Sahib,
but it is set aside when I come as thy disciple. I
have accomplished the years appointed for a
Sahib."
" As it were a novice *? " said the lama, nodding
his head. " Art thou freed from the schools *? I
would not have thee unripe."
"I am all free. In due time I take service
under the Government as a scribe — "
" Not as a warrior. That is well."
"But first I come to wander — with thee.
Therefore I am here. Who begs for thee, these
days ? " he went on quickly. The ice was thin.
" Very often I beg myself; but, as thou know-
est, I am seldom here, except when I come to look
again at my disciple. From one end to another
of Hind have I travelled afoot and in the te-rain.
A great and a wonderful land ! But here, when I
put in, is as though I were in my own Bhotiyal."
He looked round the little clean cell compla-
cently. A low cushion gave him a seat, on which
he had disposed himself in the cross-legged attitude
of the Bodhisat emerging from meditation ; a black
teak-wood table, not twenty inches high, set with
copper tea-cups, was before him. In one corner
stood a tiny altar, also of heavily carved teak, bear-
ing a copper-gilt image of the seated Buddha and
fronted by a lamp, an incense-holder, and a pair of
copper flower-pots.
KIM
" The Keeper of the Images in the Wonder
House acquired merit by giving me these a year
since," he said, following Kim's eye. " When one
is far from one's own land such things carry re-
membrance ; and we must reverence the Lord for
that He showed the Way. See I " he pointed to a
curiously built mound of coloured rice crowned with
a fantastic metal ornament. " When I was abbot
in my own place — before I came to better know-
ledge — I made that offering daily. It is the Sac-
rifice of the Universe to the Lord. Thus do we of
Bhotiyal offer all the world daily to the Excellent
Law. And I do it even now, though I know that
the Excellent One is beyond all pinchings and pat-
tings." He snuffed from his gourd.
" It is well done. Holy One," Kim murmured,
sinking at ease on the cushions, very happy and
rather tired.
" And also," the old man chuckled, " I write
pictures of the Wheel of Life. Three days to a
picture. I was busied on it — or it may be I
shut my eyes a little — when they brought word of
thee. It is good to have thee here : I will show
thee my art — not for pride's sake, but because thou
must learn. The Sahibs have not all this world's
wisdom."
He drew from under the table a sheet of
strangely scented yellow Chinese paper, the brushes,
and slab of India ink. In cleanest, severest outline
KIM
he had traced the Great Wheel with its six spokes,
whose centre is the conjoined Hog, Snake, and
Dove (Ignorance, Anger, and Lust), and whose
compartments are all the heavens and hells, and
all the chances of human life. Men say that the
Bodhisat Himself first drew it with grains of rice
upon dust, to teach His disciples the cause of
things. Many ages have crystallised it into a
most wonderful convention crowded with hun-
dreds of little figures whose every line carries a
meaning. Few can translate the picture-parable ;
there are not twenty in all the world who can draw
it surely without a copy : of those who can both
draw and expound are but three.
" I have a little learned to draw," said Kim.
" But this is a marvel beyond marvels."
"I have written It for many years," said the
lama. " Time was when I could write it all be-
tween one lamp-lighting and the next. I will
teach thee the art — after due preparation ; and I
will show thee the meaning of the Wheel."
" We take the Road, then •? "
" The Road and our Search. I was but waiting
for thee. It was made plain to me in a hundred
dreams — notably one that came upon the night of
the day that the Gates of Learning first shut — that
without thee I should never find my River. Again
and again, as thou knowest, I put this from me,
fearing an illusion. Therefore I would not take
KIM
thee with me that day at Lucknow, when we ate the
cakes. I would not take thee till the time was
ripe and auspicious. From the Hills to the Sea,
from the Sea to the Hills have I gone, but it was
vain. Then I remembered the Jdtakd"
He told Kim the story of the elephant with
the leg-iron, as he had told it so often to the Jain
priests.
" Further testimony is not needed," he ended
serenely. '' Thou wast sent for an aid. That aid
removed, my Search came to nought. Therefore
we will go out again together, and our Search is
sure."
" Whither go we ? "
" What matters, Friend of all the World ? The
Search, I say, is sure. If need be, the River will
break from the ground before us. I acquired
merit when I sent thee to the Gates of Learning,
and gave thee the jewel that is Wisdom. Thou
didst return, I saw even now, a follower of Sakya-
muni, the Physician, whose altars are many in
Bhotiyal, It is sufficient. We are together, and
all things are as they were — Friend of all the
World — Friend of the Stars — my chela ! "
Then they talked of matters secular ; but it was
noticeable that the lama never demanded any
details of life at St. Xavier's, nor showed the
faintest curiosity as to the manners and customs
of Sahibs. His mind moved all in the past, and
316
KIM
he revived every step of their wonderful first
journey together, rubbing his hands and chuckling,
till it pleased him to curl himself u{) into the
sudden sleep of old age.
Kim watched the last dusty sunshine fade out
of the court, and played with his ghost-dagger
and rosary. The clamour of Benares, oldest of
all earth's cities awake before the Gods, day and
night, beat round the walls as the sea's roar round
a breakwater. Now and again, a Jain priest
crossed the court, with some small offering to the
images, and swept the path about him lest by
chance he should take the life of a living thing.
A lamp twinkled, and there followed the sound of
a prayer. Kim watched the stars as they rose one
after another in the still, sticky dark, till he fell
asleep at the foot of the altar. That night he
dreamed in Hindustanee, with never an English
word. . . .
"Holy One, there is the child to whom we gave
the medicine," he said, about three o'clock in the
morning, when the lama, also waking from dreams,
would have fared forth on pilgrimage. " The Jat
will be here at the light."
" I am well answered. In my haste I would
have done a wrong." He sat down on the cushions
and returned to his rosary. " Surely old folk are
as children," he said pathetically. " They desire a
matter — behold, it must be done at once, or they
KIM
fret and weep I Many times when I was upon the
Road I have been ready to stamp with my feet at
the hindrance of an ox-cart in the way, or a mere
cloud of dust. It was not so when I was a man —
a long time ago. None the less it is wrongful — "
" But thou art indeed old, Holy One."
" The thing was done. A Cause was put out
into the world, and, old or young, sick or sound,
knowing or unknowing, who can rein in the effect
of that Cause ? Does the Wheel hang still if a
child spin it — or a drunkard ? Chela, this is a
great and a terrible world."
" I think it good," Kim yawned. " What is
there to eat? I have not eaten since yesterday
even."
" I had forgotten thy need. Yonder is good
Bhotiyal tea and cold rice."
" We cannot walk far on such stuff." Kim felt
all the European's lust for flesh-meat, which is
not accessible in a Jain temple. Yet, instead of
going out at once with the begging-bowl, he stayed
his stomach on slabs of cold rice till the full dawn.
It brought the farmer, voluble, stuttering with
gratitude.
" In the night the fever broke and the sweat
came," he cried. " Feel here — his skin is fresh
and new I He esteemed the salt lozenges, and
took milk with greed." He drew the cloth from
the child's face, and it smiled sleepily at Kim. A
318
KIM
little knot of Jain priests, silent but all-observant,
gathered by the temple door. They knew, and
Kim knew that they knew, how the old lama had
met his disciple. Being courteous folk, they had
not obtruded themselves overnight by presence,
word, or gesture. Wherefore Kim repaid them
as the sun rose.
"Thank the Gods of the Jains, brother," he
said, not knowing how those Gods were named.
" The fever is indeed broken."
" Look ! See ! " The lama beamed in the back-
ground upon his hosts of three years. " Was
there ever such a chela ? He follows our Lord
the Healer."
Now the Jains officially recognise all the Gods
of the Hindu creed, as well as the Lingam and
the Snake. They wear the Brahminical thread;
they adhere to every claim of Hindu caste-law.
But, because they knew and loved the lama,
because he was an old man, because he sought the
Way, because he was their guest, and because he
collogued long of nights with the head-priest — as
free-thinking a metaphysician as ever split one hair
into seventy — they murmured assent.
" Remember," — Kim bent over the child, —
" this trouble may come again."
"Not if thou hast the proper spell," said the
father.
" But in a little while we go away."
KIM
" True," said the lama to all the Jains. " We go
now together upon the Search whereof I have
often spoken. I waited till my chela was ripe.
Behold him I We go North. Never again shall
I look upon this place of my rest, O people of
good will."
" But I am not a beggar." The cultivator rose
to his feet, clutching the child.
"Be still. Do not trouble the Holy One," a
priest cried.
" Go," Kim whispered. " Meet us again under
the big railway bridge, and for the sake of all the
Gods of our Punjab, bring food — curry, pulse,
cakes fried in fat, and sweetmeats. Specially
sweetmeats. Be swift ! "
The pallor of hunger suited Kim very well as
he stood, tall and slim, in his sad-coloured, sweep-
ing robes, one hand on his rosary and the other
in the attitude of benediction, faithfully copied
from the lama. An English observer might have
said that he looked rather like the young saint of a
stained-glass window, whereas he was but a grow-
ing lad faint with emptiness.
Long and formal were the farewells, thrice ended
and thrice renewed. The Seeker — he who had
invited the lama to that haven from far-away Tibet,
a silver-faced, hairless ascetic — took no part in it,
but meditated, as always, alone among the images.
The others were very human ; pressing small com-
320
KIM
forts upon the old man, — a betel-box, a fine new
iron pencase, a food-bag, and such Hke, — warning
him against the dangers of the world without, and
prophesying a happy end to the Search. Mean-
time Kim, lonelier than ever, squatted on the steps,
and swore to himself in the language of St. Xavier's.
" But it is my own fault," he concluded. " With
Mahbub, I ate Mahbub's bread, or Lurgan Sahib's.
At St. Xavier's, three meals a day. Here I must
jolly well look out for myself Besides, I am not
in good training. Hozv I could eat a plate of beef
now I ... Is it finished. Holy One *? "
The lama, both hands raised, intoned a final
blessing in ornate Chinese. " I must lean on thy
shoulder," said he, as the temple-gates closed.
" We grow stiff, I think."
The weight of a six-foot man is not light to
steady through miles of crowded streets, and Kim,
loaded down with bundles and packages for the
way, was glad to reach the shadow of the rail-
way bridge.
" Here we eat," he said resolutely, as the Kam-
boh, blue-robed and smiling, hove in sight, a
basket in one hand and the child on the other.
" Fall to. Holy Ones I " he cried from fifty
yards. (They were by the shoal under the first
bridge-span, out of sight of hungry priests.) " Rice
and good curry, cakes all warm and well scented
with bmg (asafoetida), curds and sugar. King of
321
KIM
my fields," this to the small son, " let us show these
holy men that we Jats of Jullunder can pay a ser-
vice. ... I had heard the Jains would eat nothing
that they had not cooked, but truly " — he looked
away politely over the broad river — " where there
is no eye there is no caste."
"And we," said Kim, turning his back and
heaping a leaf-platter for the lama, "are beyond
all castes."
They gorged themselves on the good food in
silence. Nor till he had licked the last of the
sticky sweet-stuff from his little finger did Kim
note that the Kamboh too was girt for travel.
" If our roads lie together," he said roughly, " I
go with thee. One does not often find a worker of
miracles, and the child is still weak. But / am not
altogether a reed." He picked up his lathi — a
five-foot male-bamboo ringed with bands of
polished iron — and flourished it in the air. "The
Jats are called quarrelsome, but that is not true.
Except when we are crossed, we are like our own
buffaloes."
"So be it," said Kim. "A good stick is a good
reason."
The lama gazed placidly up-stream, where in
long, smudged perspective the ceaseless columns
of smoke go up from the burning-ghats by the
river. Now and again, despite all municipal
regulations, the fragment of a half-burned body
bobbed by on the full current.
322
KIM
" But for thee," said the Kamboh, drawing the
child into his hairy breast, " I might to-day have
gone thither — with this one. The priests tell us
that Benares is holy — which none doubt — and
desirable to die in. But I do not know their
Gods, and they ask for money ; and when one has
done one worship a shaved-head vows it is of none
effect except one do another. Wash here ! Wash
there I Pour, drink, lave, and scatter flowers —
but always pay the priests. No, the Punjab for
me, and the soil of the JuWunder-doab for the best
soil in it."
" I have said many times — in the temple I
think — that, if need be, the River will open at
our feet. We will therefore go North," said the
lama, rising, " I remember a pleasant place, set
about with fruit-trees, where one can walk in medi-
tation— and the air is cooler there. It comes
from the Hills and the snow of the Hills."
" What is the name ? " said Kim.
" How should I know? Didst thou — no,
that was after the Army rose out of the earth and
took thee away. I abode there in meditation in
a room against the dovecot — except when she
talked eternally."
" Oho I the woman from Kulu. That is by
Saharunpore." Kim laughed.
" How does the spirit move thy master *? Does
he go afoot, for the sake of past sins? " the Jat de-
manded cautiously. " It is a far cry to Delhi."
KIM
"No," said Kim. "I will beg a tikkut {ox the
te-rain." One does not own to the possession of
money in India.
" Then in the name of the Gods, let us take the
fire-carriage. My son is best in his mother's arms.
The Government has brought on us many taxes,
but it gives us one good thing — the tc-rain that
joins friends and unites the anxious. A wonderful
matter is the te-rain"
They all piled into it a couple of hours later,
and slept through the heat of the day. The
Kamboh plied Kim with ten thousand questions
as to the lama's walk and work in life, and re-
ceived some curious answers. Kim was content to
be where he was, to look out upon the flat North-
Western landscape, and to talk to the changing
mob of fellow-passengers. Even to-day, tickets
and ticket-clipping are dark oppression to Indian
rustics. They do not understand why, when they
have paid for a magic piece of paper, strangers
should punch great pieces out of the charm. So,
long and furious are the debates between travellers
and Eurasian ticket-collectors. Kim assisted at
two or three with grave advice, meant to darken
counsel and to show off his wisdom before the
lama and the admiring Kamboh. But at Somna
Road the Fates sent him a matter to think upon.
There tumbled into the compartment, as the train
was moving off, a mean, lean little person — a
KIM
Mahratta, so far as Kim could judge by the cock
of the tight turban. His face was cut, his musHn
upper-garment was badly torn, and one leg was
bandaged. He told them that a country-cart had
upset and nearly slain him : he was going to
Delhi, where his son lived. Kim watched him
closely. If, as he asserted, he had been rolled over
and over on the earth, there should have been signs
of gravel-rash on the skin. But all his injuries
seemed clean cuts, and a mere fall from a cart
could not cast a man into such extremity of terror.
As, with shaking fingers, he knotted up the torn
cloth about his neck he laid bare an amulet of
the kind called a keeper-up of the heart. Now,
amulets are common enough, but they are not
generally strung on square-plaited copper wire,
and still fewer amulets bear black enamel on silver.
There were none except the Kamboh and the lama
in the compartment, which, luckily, was of an old
type with solid ends. Kim made as to scratch in
his bosom, and thereby lifted his own amulet.
The Mahratta's face changed altogether at the
sight, and he disposed the amulet fairly on his
breast.
" Yes," he went on to the Kamboh, " I was in
haste, and the cart, driven by a bastard, bound its
wheel in a water-cut, and besides the harm done to
me there was lost a full dish of tarkecan. I was
not a Son of the Charm (a lucky man) that day."
KIM
" That was a great loss," said the Kamboh,
withdrawing interest. His experience of Benares
had made him suspicious.
" Who cooked it? " said Kim.
" A woman." The Mahratta raised his eyes.
" But all women can cook tarkeean" said the
Kamboh. " It is a good curry, as I know."
" Oh yes, it is a good curry," said the Mahratta.
" And cheap," said Kim. " But what about
caste ? "
" Oh, there is no caste where men go to — look
for tarkeean" the Mahratta replied, in the pre-
scribed cadence. " Of whose service art thou ? "
"Of the service of this Holy One." Kim
pointed to the happy, drowsy lama, who woke
with a jerk at the well-loved word.
"Ah, he was sent from Heaven to aid me. He
is called the Friend of all the World. He is also
called the Friend of the Stars. He walks as a
physician — his time being ripe. Great is his
wisdom."
"And a Son of the Charm," said Kim under his
breath, as the Kamboh made haste to prepare a
pipe lest the Mahratta should beg.
"And who is that?" the Mahratta asked, glanc-
ing sideways nervously.
" One whose child I — we have cured, who lies
under great debt to us. — Sit by the window, man
from JuUunder. Here is a sick one."
326
KIM
" Humph I / have no desire to mix with chance-
met wastrels. My ears are not long. / am not a
woman wishing to overhear secrets." The Jat slid
himself heavily into a far corner.
"Art thou anything of a healer? I am ten
leagues deep in calamity," cried the Mahratta,
picking up the cue,
" The man is cut and bruised all over. I go
about to cure him," Kim retorted, " None inter-
fered between thy babe and me."
" I am rebuked," said the Kamboh meekly. " I
am thy debtor for the life of my son. Thou art a
miracle-worker — I know it."
"Show me the cuts." Kim bent over the
Mahratta's neck, his heart nearly choking him;
for this was the Great Game with a vengeance.
" Now, tell thy tale swiftly, brother, while I say a
charm."
" I come from the South, where my work lay.
One of us they slew by the roadside. Hast thou
heard ? " Kim shook his head. He, of course,
knew nothing of E.23's predecessor, slain down
South in the habit of an Arab trader, " Having
found a certain letter which I was sent to seek, I
came away. I escaped from the city and ran to
Mhow. So sure was I that none knew, I did not
change my face. At Mhow a woman brought
charge against me of theft of jewellery in that
city which I had left. Then I saw the cry was
KIM
out against me. I ran from Alhow by night,
bribing the poUce, who had been bribed to hand
me over without question to my enemies in the
South. Then I lay in old Chitor city a week,
a penitent in a temple, but I could not get rid of
the letter which was my charge. I buried it under the
Queen's Stone, at Chitor, in the place known to us all."
Kim did not know, but not for worlds would
he have broken the thread.
"At Chitor, look you, I was all in Kings'
country; for Kotah to the east is beyond the
Queen's law, and east again lie Jeypur and
Gwalior. Neither love spies, and there is no
justice. I was hunted like a wet jackal ; but I
broke through at Bandakui, where I heard there
was a charge against me of murder in the city I
had left — of the murder of a boy. They have
both the corpse and the witnesses waiting."
" But cannot the Government protect *? "
" We of the Game are beyond protection. If
we die, we die. Our names are blotted from the
book. That is all. At Bandakui, where lives
one of us, I thought to slip the scent by changing
my face, and so made me a Mahratta. Then I
came to Agra, and would have turned back to
Chitor to recover the letter. So sure I was I had
slipped them. Therefore I did not send a tar
(telegram) to any one saying where the letter lay.
I wished the credit of it all."
328
KIM
Kim nodded. He understood that feeling well.
" But at Agra, walking in the streets, a man cried
a debt against me, and approaching with many-
witnesses, would hale me to the courts then and
there. Oh, they are clever in the South I He
recognised me as his agent for cotton. May he *
burn in Hell for it ! "
" And wast thou ? "
" O fool ! I was the man they sought for the
matter of the letter ! I ran into the Fleshers'
Ward and came out by the House of the Jew,
who feared a riot and pushed me forth. I came
afoot to Somna Road — I had only money for
my tikhut to Delhi — and there, while I lay in a
ditch with a fever, one sprang out of the bushes
and beat me and cut me and searched me from
head to foot. Within earshot of the te-rain it
was I "
" Why did he not slay thee out of hand ? "
"They are not so foolish. If I am taken in
Delhi at the instance of lawyers, upon a proven
charge of murder, my body is handed over to the
State that desires it. I go back guarded, and then
— I die slowly for an example to the rest of us.
The South is not my country. I run in circles —
like a goat with one eye. I have not eaten for two
days. I am marked" — he touched the filthy
bandage on his leg — " so that they will know me
at Delhi."
329
KIM
" Thou art safe in the te-rain, at least."
" Live a year at the Great Game and tell me that
again! The wires will be out against me at Delhi,
describing every tear and rag upon me. Twenty
— a hundred, if need be — will have seen me slay
that boy. And thou art useless I "
Kim knew enough of native methods of attack
not to doubt that the case would be deadly
complete — even to the corpse. The Mahratta
twitched his fingers with pain from time to time.
The Kamboh in his corner glared sullenly ; the
lama was busy over his beads ; and Kim, fumbling
doctor-fashion at the man's neck, thought out his
plan between invocations.
" Hast thou a charm to change my shape ?
Else I am dead. Five — ten minutes alone, if I
had not been so pressed, and I might — "
"Is he cured yet, miracle-worker? "said the Kam-
boh jealously. "Thou hast chanted long enough."
" Nay. There is no cure for his hurts, as I see,
except he sit for three days in the habit of a
bairagi" This is a common penance, often im-
posed on a fat trader by his spiritual teacher.
" One priest always goes about to make another
priest," was the retort. Like most grossly super-
stitious folk, the Kamboh could not keep his
tongue from deriding his Church.
" Will thy son be a priest, then *? It is time he
took more of my quinine."
KIM
" We Jats are all buffaloes," said the Kamboh,
softening anew.
Kim rubbed a finger-tip of bitterness on the
child's trusting little lips. " I have asked for noth-
ing," he said sternly to the father, " except food.
Dost thou grudge me that *? I go to heal another
man. Have I thy leave — Prince ? "
Up flew the man's huge paws in supplication.
"Nay — nay. Do not mock me thus."
*' It pleases me to cure this sick one. Thou
shalt acquire merit by aiding. What colour ash
is there in thy pipe-bowl? White. That is
auspicious. Was there raw turmeric among thy
food-stuffs?"
"I — I—"
" Open thy bundle ! "
It was the usual collection of small oddments :
bits of cloth, quack medicines, cheap fairings, a
clothful of atta^ — grayish, rough-ground native
flour, — twists of down-country tobacco, tawdry
pipe-stems, and a packet of curry-stuff, all wrapped
in a quilt. Kim turned it over with the air of a
wise warlock, muttering a Mohammedan invocation.
" This is wisdom I learned from the Sahibs,"
he whispered to the lama; and here, when one
thinks of his training at Lurgan's, he spoke no
more than the truth. " There is a great evil in
this man's fortune, as shown by the Stars, which
— which troubles him. Shall I take it away *? "
KIM
" Friend of the Stars, thou hast done well in all
things. Let it be at thy pleasure. Is it another
healing ? "
" Quick ! Be quick ! " gasped the Mahratta.
" The train may stop."
" A healing against the shadow of death," said
Kim, mixing the Kamboh's flour with the mingled
charcoal and tobacco ash in the red-earth bowl of
the pipe. E.23, without a word, slipped off his
turban and shook down his long black hair.
" That is my food — priest," the Jat growled.
" A buffalo in the temple ! Hast thou dared to
look even thus far ? " said Kim. " I must do mys-
teries before fools; but have a care for thy eyes.
Is there a film before them already*? I save the
babe, and for return thou — oh, shameless ! " The
man flinched at the direct gaze, for Kim was wholly
in earnest. " Shall I curse thee, or shall I — " He
picked up the outer cloth of the bundle and threw
it over the bowed head. "Dare so much as to
think a wish to see, and — and — even I cannot
save thee. Sit ! Be dumb I "
" I am blind — dumb. Forbear to curse ! Co —
come, child ; we will play a game of hiding. Do
not, for my sake, look from under the cloth."
" I see hope," said E.23. " What is thy
scheme *? "
"This comes next," said Kim, plucking the
thin body-shirt. E.23 hesitated, with all a North-
West man's dislike of baring his body.
KIM
"What is caste to a cut-throat'?" said Kim,
rending it to the waist. " We must make thee a
yellow Saddhu all over. Strip — strip swiftly, and
shake thy hair over thy eyes while I scatter the
ash. Now, a caste-mark on thy forehead." He
drew from his bosom the little Survey paint-box
and a cake of crimson lake.
" Art thou only a beginner ? " said E.23, labour-
ing literally for the dear life, as he slid out of his
body-wrappings and stood clear in the loin-cloth
while Kim splashed in a noble caste-mark on the
ash-smeared brow.
"But two days entered to the Game, brother,"
Kim replied. " Smear more ash on the bosom."
" Hast thou met — a physician of sick pearls ? "
He switched out his long, tight-rolled turban-
cloth and, with swiftest hands, rolled it over and
under about his loins into the intricate devices of
a Saddhu's cincture.
"Hah! Dost thou know his touch, then? He
was my teacher for awhile. We must bar thy
legs. Ash cures wounds. Smear it again."
" I was his pride once, but thou art almost
better. The Gods are kind to us I Give me
thatr
It was a tin box of opium pills among the rub-
bish of the Jat's bundle. E.23 gulped down a half
handful. " They are good against hunger, fear, and
chill. And they make the eyes red too," he ex-
plained. "Now I shall have heart to play the
333
KIM
Game. We lack only a Saddhu's tongs. What
of the old clothes?"
Kim rolled them small, and stuflfed them into
the slack folds of his tunic. With a yellow-ochre
paint-cake he smeared the legs and the breast,
great streaks against the background of flour, ash,
and turmeric.
" The blood on them is enough to hang thee,
brother."
"Maybe; but no need to throw them out of
the window. ... It is finished." His voice
thrilled with a boy's pure delight in the Game.
" Turn and look, O Jat ! "
" The Gods protect us," said the hooded Kam-
boh, emerging like a buffalo from the reeds. "But
— whither went the Mahratta ? What hast thou
done ? "
Kim had been trained by Lurgan Sahib ; and
E.23, by virtue of his business, was no bad actor.
In place of the tremulous, shrinking trader there
lolled against the corner an all but naked, ash-
smeared, ochre-barred, dusty-haired Saddhu, his
swollen eyes — opium takes quick effect on an
empty stomach — luminous with insolence and
bestial lust, his legs crossed under him, Kim's
brown rosary round his neck, and a scant yard of
worn, flowered chintz on his shoulders. The child
buried his face in his amazed father's arms.
" Look up, Princeling I We travel with warlocks,
334
KIM
but they will not hurt thee. Oh, do not cry. . . .
What is the sense of curing a child one day and
killing him with fright the next? "
" The child will be fortunate all his life. He has
seen a great healing. When I was a child I made
clay men and horses."
" I have made them too. Sir Banas, he comes
in the night and makes them all alive at the back
of our kitchen-midden," piped the child.
" And so thou art not frightened at anything.
Eh, Prince ? "
"I was frightened because my father was fright-
ened. I felt his arms shake."
" Oh, chicken-man," said Kim, and even the
abashed Jat laughed. " I have done a healing on
this poor trader. He must forsake his gains and
his account-books, and sit by the wayside three
nights to overcome the malignity of his enemies.
The Stars are against him."
" The fewer money-lenders the better, say I ;
but, Saddhu or no Saddhu, he should pay for my
stuff on his shoulders."
" So *? But that is thy child on thy shoulder —
given over to the burning-ghat not two days ago.
There remains one thing more. I did this charm
in thy presence because need was great. I changed
his shape and his soul. None the less, if, by any
chance, O man from JuUunder, thou rememberest
what thou hast seen, either among the elders
335
KIM
sitting under the village tree, or in thy own house,
or in company of thy priest when he blesses thy
cattle, a murrain will come among the buffaloes,
and a fire in thy thatch, and rats in the corn-bin,
and the curse of our Gods upon thy fields that
they may be barren before thy feet and after thy
ploughshare." This was part of an old curse
picked up from -3, faquir by the Taksali Gate in the
days of Kim's innocence. It lost nothing by repe-
tition.
"Cease, Holy One ! In mercy, cease I " cried the
Jat. " Do not curse the household. I saw nothing I
I heard nothing! I am thy cowl" and he made to
grab at Kim's bare foot beating rhythmically on the
carriage floor.
"But since thou hast been permitted to aid me
in the matter of a pinch of flour and a little opium
and such trifles as I have honoured by using in my
art, so will the Gods return a blessing," and he gave
it at length, to the man's immense relief It was one
that he had learned from Lurgan Sahib.
The lama stared through his spectacles as he had
not stared at the business of disguisement.
" Friend of the Stars," he said at last, " thou
hast acquired great wisdom. Beware that it do not
give birth to pride. No man having the Law be-
fore his eyes speaks hastily of any matter which he
has seen or encountered."
"No — no — no indeed," cried the farmer, fear-
KIM
ful lest the master should be minded to improve on
the pupil. E.23, with relaxed mouth, gave him-
self up to the opium that is meat, tobacco, and
medicine to the spent Asiatic.
So, in a silence of awe and great miscompre-
hension, they slid into Delhi about lamp-lighting
time.
337
XII
Who hath desired the Sea — the sight of salt-water unbounded ?
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber
wind-hounded ?
The sleek-barrelled swell before storm — gray, foamless, enor-
mous, and growing ?
Stark calm on the lap of the Line — or the crazy-eyed hurricane
blowing ?
His Sea in no showing the same — his Sea and the same 'neath
all showing —
His Sea that his being fulfils ?
So and no otherwise — so and no otherwise hillmen desire
their hills!
" I HAVE found my heart again," said E.23, under
cover of the platform's tumult. " Hunger and fear
make men dazed, or I might have thought of this
escape before. I was right. They come to hunt
for me. Thou hast saved my head."
A group of yellow-trousered Punjab policemen,
headed by a hot and perspiring young Englishman,
parted the crowd about the carriages. Behind
them, inconspicuous as a cat, ambled a small fat
person who looked like a lawyer's tout.
" See the young Sahib reading from a paper.
338
KIM
My description is in his hand," said E.23. "They
go carriage by carriage, like fisher-folk, netting a
pool."
When the procession reached their compart-
ment, E.23 was counting his beads with a steady
jerk of the wrist ; while Kim jeered at him for being
so drugged as to have lost the ringed fire-tongs
which are the Saddhu's distinguishing mark. The
lama, deep in meditation, stared straight before
him ; and the farmer, glancing furtively, gathered
up his belongings.
" Nothing here but a parcel of holy-bolies," said
the Englishman aloud, and passed on amid a ripple
of uneasiness ; for native police mean extortion to
the native all India over.
"The trouble now," whispered E.23, "li^s in
sending a wire as to the place where I hid that
letter I was sent to find. I cannot go to the tar-
office in this guise."
" Is it not enough I have saved thy neck ? "
"Not if the work be left unfinished. Did never
the healer of sick pearls tell thee so*? Comes
another Sahib I Ah ! "
This was a tallish, sallowish District Super-
intendent of Police, — belt, helmet, polished spurs
and all, — strutting and twirling his dark mous-
tache.
" What fools are these Police Sahibs ! " said
Kim genially.
339
KIM
E.23 glanced up under his eyelids. " It is well
said," he muttered in a changed voice. " I go to
drink water. Keep my place."
He blundered out almost into the Englishman's
arms, and was bad-worded in clumsy Urdu.
*' '^um 7nut? You drunk *? You mustn't bang
about as though Delhi station belonged to you, my
friend."
E.23, not moving a muscle of his countenance,
answered with a stream of the filthiest abuse, at
which Kim naturally rejoiced. It reminded him
of the drummer-boys and the barrack-sweepers
at Umballa in the terrible time of his first
schooling,
"My good fool," the Englishman drawled.
" Nickle-jao ! Go back to your carriage."
Step by step, withdrawing deferentially, and
dropping his voice, the yellow Saddhu clomb
back to the carriage, cursing the D.S.P. to remotest
posterity by — here Kim almost jumped — by the
curse of the Queen's Stone, by the writing under
the Queen's Stone, and by an assortment of Gods
with wholly new names.
" I don't know what you're saying," — the Eng-
lishman flushed angrily, — " but it's some piece of
blasted impertinence. Come out of that ! "
E.23, affecting to misunderstand, gravely pro-
duced his ticket, which the Englishman wrenched
angrily from his hand.
340
KIM
"Oh zoolum! What oppression!" growled the
Jat from his corner. "All for the sake of a jest
too." He had been grinning at the freedom of the
Saddhu's tongue. " Thy charms do not work well
to-day, Holy One!"
The Saddhu followed the policeman, fawning
and supplicating. The ruck of passengers, busy
with their babies and their bundles, had not noticed
the affair. Kim slipped out behind him; for it
flashed through his head that he had heard this
angry, stupid Sahib discoursing loud personalities
to an old lady near Umballa three years ago.
" It is well," the Saddhu whispered, jammed in
the calling, shouting, bewildered press — a Persian
greyhound between his feet and a cadgeful of
yelling hawks under charge of a Rajput falconer in
the small of his back. " He has gone now to send
word of the letter which I hid. They told me he
was in Peshawur. I might have known that he
is like the crocodile — always at the other ford.
He has saved me from present calamity, but I owe
my life to thee."
" Is he also one of Us *? " Kim ducked under a
Mewar camel-driver's greasy armpit and cannoned
off a covey of jabbering Sikh matrons.
"Not less than the greatest. We are both
fortunate ! I will make report to him of what
thou hast done. I am safe under his protection."
He bored through the edge of the crowd be-
KIM
sieging the carriages, and squatted by the bench
near the telegraph-office.
" Return, or they take thy place ! Have no
fear for the work, brother — or my life. Thou
hast given me breathing-space, and Strickland
Sahib has pulled me to land. We may work to-
gether at the Game yet. Farewell I "
Kim hurried to his carriage: elated, bewildered,
but a little nettled in that he had no key to the
secrets about him.
" I am only a beginner at the Game, that is
sure. / could not have leaped into safety as did
the Saddhu. He knew it was darkest under the
lamp. / could not have thought to tell news
under pretence of cursing . . . and how clever
was the Sahib I No matter, I saved the life of
one. , . . Where is the Kamboh gone. Holy
One?" he whispered, as he took his seat in the
now crowded compartment.
*' A fear gripped him," the lama replied, with a
touch of tender malice. " He saw thee change the
Mahratta to a Saddhu in the twinkling of an eye, as
a protection against evil. That shook him. Then
he saw the Saddhu fall sheer into the hands of the
polls — all the effect of thy art. Then he gathered
up his son and fled; for he said that thou didst
change a quiet trader into an impudent handier of
words with the Sahibs, and he feared a like fate.
Where is the Saddhu ? "
KIM
" With the polish said Kim. ..." Yet I saved
the Kamboh's child."
The lama snuffed blandly.
*' Ah, chela^ see how thou art overtaken ! Thou
didst cure the Kamboh's child solely to acquire
merit. But thou didst put a spell on the Mah-
ratta with prideful workings — I watched thee —
and with sidelong glances to bewilder an old, old
man and a foolish farmer : whence calamity and
suspicion."
Kim controlled himself with an effort beyond
his years. Not more than any other youngster did
he like to eat dirt or to be misjudged, but he saw
himself in a cleft stick. The train rolled out of
Delhi into the night.
" It is true," he murmured. " Where I have
offended thee I have done wrong."
" It is more, chela. Thou hast loosed an Act
upon the world, and as a stone thrown into a pool
so spread the consequences thou canst not tell how
far."
This ignorance was well both for Kim's vanity
and for the lama's peace of mind, when we think
that there was then being handed in at Simla a
code-wire reporting the arrival of E.23 at Delhi,
and, more important, the whereabouts of a letter he
had been commissioned to — abstract. Inciden-
tally, an over-zealous policeman had arrested, on
charge of murder done in a far southern State, a
343
KIM
horribly indignant Ajmir cotton-broker, who was
explaining himself to a Mr. Strickland on Delhi
platform, while E.23 was paddling through byways
into the locked heart of Delhi city. In two hours
several telegrams had reached the angry minister
of a southern State reporting that all trace of a
somewhat bruised Mahratta had been lost ; and
by the time the leisurely train halted at Saharun-
pore the last ripple of the stone Kim had helped
to heave was lapping against the steps of a mosque
in far-away Roum — where it disturbed a pious
man at prayers.
The lama made his in ample form near the dewy
bougainvillea-trellis near the platform, cheered by
the clear sunshine and the presence of his disciple.
" We will put these things behind us," he said,
indicating the brazen engine and the gleaming
track. "The jolting of the te-rain — though a
wonderful thing — has turned my bones to water.
We will use clean air henceforward."
" Let us go to the Kulu woman's house." . Kim
stepped forth cheerily under the bundles. Early
morning Saharunpore-way is clean and well
scented. He thought of the other mornings at St.
Xavier's, and it topped his already thrice-heaped
contentment.
"Where is this new haste born from? Wise
men do not run about like chickens in the sun.
We have come hundreds upon hundreds of kos
344
KIM
already, and, till now, I have scarcely been alone
with thee an instant. How canst thou receive
instruction all jostled of crowds? How can I,
whelmed by a flux of talk, meditate upon the
Way ? "
" Her tongue grows no shorter with the years,
then*?" The disciple smiled.
" Nor her desire for charms. I remember once
when I spoke of the Wheel of Life " — the lama
fumbled in his bosom for his latest copy — "she
was only curious about the devils that besiege
children. She shall acquire merit by entertain-
ing us — in a little while — at an after-occasion
— softly, softly. Now we will wander loose-foot,
waiting upon the Chain of Things. The Search is
sure."
So they travelled very easily across and among
the broad bloomful fruit-gardens — by way of
Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of the Ford, and
little Phulesa — the line of the Sewaliks always to
the north, and behind them again the snows.
After long, sweet sleep under the dry stars came
the lordly, leisurely passage through a waking
village — begging-bowl held forth in silence, but
eyes roving in defiance of the Law from sky's
edge to sky's edge. Then would Kim return
soft-footed through the soft dust to his master
under the shadow of a mango-tree or the thinner
shade of a white Doon j/m, to eat and drink at
345
KIM
ease. At mid-day, after talk and a little wayfaring,
they slept; meeting the world refreshed when the
air was cooler. Night found them adventuring
into new territory — some chosen village spied
three hours before across the fat land, and much
discussed upon the road.
There they told their tale, — a new one each
evening so far as Kim was concerned, — and there
were they made welcome, either by priest or head-
man, after the custom of the kindly East.
When the shadows shortened and the lama
leaned more heavily upon Kim, there was always
the Wheel of Life to draw forth, to hold flat under
wiped stones, and with a long straw to expound
cycle by cycle. Here sat the Gods on high — and
they were dreams of dreams. Here was our Heaven
and the world of the demi-Gods — horsemen fight-
ing among the hills. Here were the agonies done
upon the beasts, souls ascending or descending the
ladder and therefore not to be interfered with.
Here were the Hells, hot and cold, and the abodes
of tormented ghosts. Let the chela study the trou-
bles that come from over-eating — bloated stomach
and burning bowels. Obediently then, with bowed
head and brown finger alert to follow the pointer,
did the chela study; but when they came to the
Human World, busy and profitless, that is just
above the Hells, his mind was distracted; for by
the roadside trundled the very Wheel itself, eating.
KIM
drinking, trading, marrying, and quarrelling — all
warmly alive. Often the lama made the living
pictures the matter of his text, bidding Kim — too
ready — note how the flesh takes a thousand thou-
sand shapes, desirable or detestable as men reckon,
but in truth of no account either way; and how
the stupid spirit, bond-slave to the Hog, the Dove,
and the Serpent — lusting after betel-nut, a new
yoke of oxen, women, or the favour of kings — is
bound to follow the body through all the Heavens
and all the Hells, and strictly round again. Some-
times a woman or a poor man, watching the
ritual — it was nothing less — when the great yel-
low chart was unfolded, would throw a few flowers
or a handful of cowries upon its edge. It sufficed
these humble ones they had met a Holy One who
might be moved to remember them in his prayers.
"Cure them if they are sick," said the lama,
when Kim's sporting instincts woke. " Cure them
if they have fever, but by no means work charms.
Remember what befell the Mahratta."
" Then all Doing is evil *? " Kim replied, lying
out under a big tree at the fork of the Doon road,
watching the little ants run over his hand.
" To abstain from action is well — except to
acquire merit."
" At the Gates of Learning we were taught that
to abstain from action was unbefitting a Sahib-
And I am a Sahib."
347
KIM
"Friend of all the World," — the lama looked
directly at Kim, — " I am an old man — pleased
with shows as are children. To those who follow
the Way there is neither black nor white, Hind nor
Bhotiyal. We be all souls seeking escape. No
matter what thy wisdom learned among Sahibs,
when we come to my River thou wilt be freed
from all illusfon — at my side. Hai ! my bones
ache for that River, as they ached in the te-rain ;
but my spirit sits above my bones, waiting. The
Search is sure ! "
" I am answered. Is it permitted to ask a
question *? "
The lama inclined his stately head.
" I ate thy bread for three years — as thou
knowest. Holy One, whence came — *? "
" There is much wealth, as men count it, in
Bhotiyal," the lama returned with composure. " In
my own place I have the illusion of honour. I
ask for that I need. I am not concerned with the
account. That is for my monastery. Ai ! The
black high seats in the monastery, and the novices
all in order I "
And he told stories, tracing with a finger in the
dust, of the immense and sumptuous ritual of
avalanche-guarded cathedrals; of processions and
devil-dances ; of the changing of monks and nuns
into swine ; of holy cities fifteen thousand feet in
the air; of intrigue between monastery and mon-
348
KIM
astery; of voices among the hills, and of that
mysterious mirage that dances on dry snow. He
spoke even of Lhassa and of the Dalai Lama,
whom he had seen and adored.
Each long, perfect day rose behind Kim for a
barrier to cut him off from his race and his mother-
tongue. He slipped back to thinking and dream-
ing in the vernacular, and mechanically followed
the lama's ceremonial observances at eating, drink-
ing, and the like. The old man's mind turned
more and more to his monastery as his eyes turned
to the steadfast snows. His River troubled him
nothing. Now and again, indeed, he would gaze
long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting, he
said, the earth to cleave and deliver its blessing;
but he was content to be with his disciple, at ease
in the temperate wind that comes down from the
Doon. This was not Ceylon, nor Buddh Gaya,
nor Bombay, nor some grass-tangled ruins that he
seemed to have stumbled upon two years ago.
He spoke of those places as a scholar removed from
vanity, as a Seeker walking in humility, as an old
man, wise and temperate, illumining knowledge
with brilliant insight. Bit by bit, disconnectedly,
each tale called up by some wayside thing, he spoke
of all his wanderings up and down Hind ; till
Kim, who had loved him without reason, now
loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyed
themselves in high felicity, abstaining, as the Rule
349
KIM
demands, from evil words, covetous desires ; not
over-eating, not lying on high beds, nor wearing
rich clothes. Their stomach told them the time,
and the people brought them their food, as the
saying is. They were lords of the villages of
Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of the Ford, and
little Phulesa, where Kim gave the soulless woman
a blessing.
But news travels fast in India, and too soon
shuffled across the crop-land, bearing a basket
of fruits with a box of Cabul grapes and gilt
oranges, a white-whiskered servitor — a lean, dry
Oorya — begging them to bring the honour of
their presence to his mistress, distressed in her
mind that the lama had neglected her so long.
" Now do I remember " — the lama spoke as
though it were a wholly new proposition. " She
is virtuous, but an inordinate talker."
Kim was sitting on the edge of a cow's manger,
telling stories to a village smith's children.
" She will only ask for another son for her
daughter. I have not forgotten her," he said. "Let
her acquire merit. Send word that we will come."
They covered eleven miles through the fields
in two days, and were overwhelmed with atten-
tions at the end ; for the old lady held a fine
tradition of hospitality, to which she forced her
son-in-law, who was under the thumb of his women-
folk and bought peace by borrowing of the money-
KIM
lender. Age had not weakened her tongue or her
memory, and from a discreetly barred upper window,
in the hearing of not less than a dozen servants, she
paid Kim compliments that would have flung
European audiences into unclean dismay.
" But thou art still the shameless beggar-brat of
the parao" she shrilled. " I have not forgotten
thee. Wash ye and eat. The father of my
daughter's son is gone away awhile. So we poor
women are dumb and useless."
For proof, she harangued the entire household
unsparingly till food and drink were brought;
and in the evening — the smoke-scented evening,
copper-dun and turquoise across the fields — it
pleased her to order her palanquin to be set down in
the untidyforecourt by smoky torch-light; and there,
behind not too closely drawn curtains, she gossiped.
" Had the Holy One come alone, I should have
received him otherwise; but with this rogue, who
can be too careful ? "
" Maharanee," said Kim, choosing as always the
amplest title, " is it my fault that none other than
a Sahib — a poUs-s,2hSb — called the Maharanee
whose face he — "
" Chitt ! That was on the pilgrimage. When
we travel — thou knowest the proverb."
" Called the Maharanee a Breaker of Hearts and
a Dispenser of Delights *? "
" To remember that I It was true. So he did.
KIM
That was in the time of the bloom of my beauty."
She chuckled like a contented parrot above the
sugar lump. " Now tell me of thy goings and
comings — as much as may be without shame.
How many"^ maids, and whose wives, hang upon
thy eyelashes ? Ye hail from Benares *? I would
have gone there again this year, but my daughter
— we have only two sons. Phaii ! Such is the
effect of these low plains. Now in Kulu men are
elephants. But I would ask thy Holy One —
stand aside, rogue — a charm against most lament-
able windy colics that in mango-time overtake my
daughter's eldest. Two years back he gave me a
powerful spell."
"Oh, Holy One!" said Kim, bubbling with
mirth at the lama's rueful face.
" It is true. I gave her one against wind."
" Teeth — teeth — teeth," snapped the old
woman.
" Cure them when they are sick," Kim quoted
relishingly, " but by no means work charms. Re-
member what befell the Mahratta."
"That was two Rains ago; she wearied me with
her continual importunity." The lama groaned as
the Unjust Judge had groaned before him. " Thus
it comes — take note, my chela — that even those
who would follow the Way are thrust aside by
idle women. Three days through, when the child
was sick, she talked to me."
KIM
" Arre I and to whom else should I talk *? The
boy's mother knew nothing, and the father — in the
nights of the cold weather it was — ' Pray to the
Gods,' said he, forsooth, and turning over,
snored ! "
" I gave her the charm. What is an old man to
do?"
'"To abstain from action is well — except when
we acquire merit.' "
"Ah, chela^ if thou desertest me, I am all
alone."
"He found his milk-teeth easily at any rate,"
said the old lady. "But all priests are alike."
Kim coughed severely. Being young, he did
not approve of her flippancy. " To importune the
wise out of season is to invite calamity."
"There is a talking mynah'" — the thrust came
back with the well-remembered snap of the jewelled
forefinger — " over the stables which has picked up
the very tone of the family-priest. Maybe I forget
honour to my guests, but if ye had seen him double
his fists into his belly, which was like a half-grown
gourd, and cry : ' Here is the pain I ' ye w^ould for-
give. I am half minded to take the hahm's medi-
cine. He sells it cheap, and certainly it makes
him fat as Shiv's own bull. He does not deny
remedies, but I doubted for the child because of
the inauspicious colour of the bottles."
The lama, under cover of the monologue, had
353
KIM
faded out into the darkness towards the room pre-
pared.
"Thou hast angered him, belike," said Kim.
" Not he. He is wearied, and I forgot, being a
grandmother. (None but a grandmother should
ever oversee a child. Mothers are only fit for
bearing.) To-morrow, when he sees how my
daughter's son is grown, he will write the charm.
Then, too, he can judge of the new hakim's drugs."
" Who is the hakim^ Maharanee ? "
"A wanderer, as thou art, but a most sober Ben-
gali from Dacca — a master of medicine. He re-
lieved me of an oppression after meat by means of
a small pill that wrought like a devil unchained.
He travels about now, vending preparations of
great value. He has even papers, printed in An-
grezi, telling what things he has done for weak-
backed men and slack women. He has been here
four days ; but hearing ye were coming (hakims
and priests are snake and tiger the world over) he
has, as I take it, gone to cover."
While she drew breath after this volley, the
ancient servant, sitting unrebuked on the edge of
the torch-light, muttered : " This house is a cattle-
pound, as it were, for all charlatans and — priests.
Let the boy stop eating mangoes . . . but who
can argue with a grandmother? " He raised his
voice respectfully : " Sahiba, the hakim sleeps after
354
KIM
his meat. He is in the quarters behind the dove-
cot."
Kim bristled like an expectant terrier. To out-
face and down-talk a Calcutta-taught Bengali, a
voluble Dacca drug-vendor, would be a good
game. It was not seemly that the lama, and
incidentally himself, should be thrown aside for
such an one. He knew those curious bastard
English advertisements at the backs of native
newspapers. St. Xavier's boys sometimes brought
them in by stealth to snigger over among their
mates; for the language of the grateful patient
recounting his symptoms is most simple and re-
vealing. The Oorya, not unanxious to play off
one parasite against the other, slunk away towards
the dovecot.
"Yes," said Kim, with measured scorn. "Their
stock-in-trade is a little coloured water and a very
great shamelessness. Their prey are broken-down
kings and over-fed Bengalis. Their profit is in
children — who are not born."
The old lady chuckled. "Do not be envious.
Charms are better, eh ^ / never gainsaid it. See
that thy Holy One writes me a good amulet by
the morning."
"None but the ignorant deny" — a thick, heavy
voice boomed through the darkness, as a figure
came to rest squatting — " none but the ignorant
355
KIM
deny the value of charms. None but the ignorant
deny the value of medicines."
" A rat found a piece of turmeric. Said he :
' I will open a grocer's shop,' " Kim retorted.
Battle was fairly joined now, and they heard the
old lady stiffen to attention.
" The priest's son knows the names of his nurse
and three Gods. Says he : ' Hear me, or I will
curse you by the three million Great Ones.' " De-
cidedly this invisible had an arrow or two in his
quiver. He went on : "I am but a teacher of the
alphabet. I have learned all the wisdom of the
Sahibs."
" The Sahibs never grow old. They dance and
they play like children when they are grandfathers.
A strong-backed breed," piped the voice inside the
palanquin.
" I have, too, our drugs which loosen humours
of the head in hot and angry men. S,ind well com-
pounded when the moon stands in the proper
House; yellow earths I have — arplan from China
that makes a man renew his youth and astonish his
household; saffron from Kashmir, and the best
salep of Cabul. Many people have died before — "
" That I surely believe," said Kim.
" They knew the value of my drugs. I do
not give my sick the mere ink in which a charm is
written, but hot and rending drugs which descend
and wrestle with the evil."
KIM
" Very mightily they do so," sighed the old lady.
The voice launched into an immense tale of
misfortune and bankruptcy, studded with plentiful
petitions to the Government. " But for my fate,
which overrules all, I had been now in Government
employ. I bear a degree from the great school at
Calcutta — whither, maybe, the son of this house
shall go."
" He shall indeed. If our neighbour's brat can
in a few years be made an F, A." (First Arts — she
used the English word, of which she had heard so
often), "how much more shall children clever as
some that I know bear away prizes at rich Calcutta."
"Never," said the voice, "have I seen such a
child I Born in an auspicious hour, and — but for
that colic which, alas ! turning into black cholera,
may carry him off like a pigeon — destined to
many years, he is enviable."
"■Haz ma//" said the old lady. "To praise
children is inauspicious, or I could listen to this
talk. But the back of the house is unguarded, and
even in this soft air men think themselves to be
men and women we know. . . . The child's father
is away too, and I must be chowkedar (watchman)
in my old age. Up ! Up ! Take up the palan-
quin. Let the hahm and the young priest settle
between them whether charms or medicine most
avail. Ho ! worthless people, fetch tobacco for
the guests, and — round the homestead go II"
357
KIM
The palanquin reeled off, followed by straggling
torches and a horde of dogs. Twenty villages
knew the Sahiba — her failings, her tongue, and
her large charity. Twenty villages cheated her
after immemorial custom, but no man would have
stolen or robbed within her jurisdiction for any gift
under Heaven. None the less, she made great
parade of her formal inspections, the riot of which
could be heard half-way to Mussoorie.
Kim relaxed, as one augur must when he meets
another. The hakim, still squatting, slid over his
hookah with a friendly foot, and Kim pulled at the
good weed. The hangers-on expected grave pro-
fessional debate, and perhaps a little free doctoring.
" To discuss medicine before the ignorant is of
one piece with teaching the peacock to sing," said
the hakim.
" True courtesy," Kim echoed, " is very often
inattention."
These, be it understood, were company-manners,
designed to impress.
" Hi I I have an ulcer on my leg," cried a
scullion. " Look at it I "
" Get hence I Remove ! " said the hakim. " Is
it the habit of the place to pester honoured guests *?
Ye crowd in like buffaloes."
" If the Sahiba knew — " Kim began.
" Ai I Ai ! Come away. They are meat for
our mistress. When her young Shaitan's colics
358
KIM
are cured perhaps we poor people may be suffered
to—"
" The mistress fed thy wife when thou wast in
jail for breaking the money-lender's head. Who
speaks against her?" The old servitor curled his
white moustaches savagely in the young moonlight.
*'/ am responsible for the honour of this house.
Go I " and he drove the underlings before him.
Said the haki?n^ hardly more than shaping the
words with his lips : " How do you do, Mister
O'Hara *? I am jolly glad to see you again."
Kim's hand clenched about the pipe-stem.
Anywhere on the open road, perhaps, he would not
have been astonished; but here, in this quiet back-
water of life, he was not prepared for Hurree Babu.
It annoyed him, too, that he had been hoodwinked.
"Ah ha I I told you at Lucknow — rcsurgam —
I shall rise again and you shall not know me. How
much did you bet — eh ? "
He chewed leisurely upon a few cardamom seeds,
but he breathed uneasily.
" But why come here, Babuji ? "
"Ah! l^hatt is the question, as Shakespeare
hath said. I come to congratulate you on your ex-
traordinary effeecient performance at Delhi. Oahl
I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree
neat and handy. Our mutual friend, he is old
friend of mine. He has been in some dam-tight
places. Now he will be in some more. He told
359
KIM
me ; I tell Mister Lurgan ; and he is pleased you
graduate so nicely. All the Department is pleased."
For the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the
clean pride (it can be a deadly pitfall, none the
less) of Departmental praise — ensnaring praise
from an equal of work appreciated by fellow-
workers. Earth has nothing on the same plane to
compare with it. But, cried the Oriental in him,
Babus do not travel far to retail compliments.
" Tell thy tale, Babu," he said authoritatively.
" Oah, it is nothing. Onlee I was at Simla when
the wire came in about what our mutual friend said
he had hidden, and old Creighton — " He looked
to see how Kim would take this piece of audacity.
" The Colonel Sahib," the boy from St. Xavier's
corrected.
"Cy course. He found me at a loose string, and
I had to go down to Chitor to find that beastly
letter. I do not like the South — too much railway
travel; but I drew good travelling allowance. Hal
Ha I I meet our mutual at Delhi on the way back.
He lies quiett just now, and says Saddhu-disguise
suits him to the ground. Well, there I hear what
you have done so well, so quickly, upon the in-
stantaneous spur of the moment. I tell our mutual
friend you take the bally bun, by Jove ! It was
splendid. I come to tell you so."
"Umm!"
The frogs were busy in the ditches, and the
360
KIM
moon slid to her setting. Some happy servant
had gone out to commune with the night and to
beat upon a drum. Kim's next sentence was in
the vernacular.
" How didst thou follow us ? "
" Oah, thatt was nothing. I know from our
mutual friend you go to Saharunpore. So I come
on. Red lamas are not inconspicuous persons. I
buy myself my drug-box, and I am very good
doctor really. I go to Akrola by the Ford, and
hear all about you, and I talk here and talk
there. All the common people know what you
do. I know when the hospitable old lady sent
the dooli. They have great recollections of the
old lama's visits here. I know old ladies can-
not keep their hands from medicines. So I am
a doctor and — you hear my talk ? / think it
is verree good. My word, Mister O'Hara, they
know about you and the lama for fifty miles —
the common people. So I come. Do you
mind?"
" Babuji," said Kim, looking up at the broad,
grinning face, " I am a Sahib."
" My dear Mister O'Hara — "
" And I hope to play the Great Game."
" You are subordinate to me departmentally at
present."
" Then why talk like an ape in a tree ? Men do
not come after one from Simla and change their
361
KIM
dress, for the sake of a few sweet words. I am not
a child. Talk Hindi and let us get to the yolk of
the egg. Thou art here — speaking not one word
of truth in ten. Why art thou here ? Give a
straight answer."
" That is so verree disconcerting of the European,
Mister O'Hara. Ton should know a heap better
at your time of life."
" But I want to know," said Kim, laughing.
" If it is the Game, I may help. How can I
do anything if you hukh (babble) all round the
shop ? "
Hurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked
it till it guggled again.
" Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight.
Mister O'Hara. ... It concerns the pedigree of
a white stallion."
" Still % That was finished long ago."
" When every one is dead the Great Game is
finished. Not before. Listen to me till the end.
There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden
war three years ago, when thou wast given the
stallion's pedigree by Mahbub Ali. Upon them,
because of that news, and ere they were ready, fell
our Army."
" Ay — eight thousand men with guns. I re-
member that night."
" But the war was not pushed. That is the
Government custom. The troops were recalled
362
KIM
because the Government believed the Five Kings
were covi'ed; and it is not cheap to feed men
among the high Passes. Hilas and Bunar — Ra-
jahs with guns — undertook for a price to guard
the Passes against all coming from the North.
They protested both fear and friendship." He
broke off with a giggle into English : " Of course,
I tell you this unoffeecially to elucidate political
situation, Mister O'Hara. Offeecially, I am de-
barred from criticising any action of superior.
Now I go on. — This pleased the Government,
anxious to avoid expense, and a bond was made
for so many rupees a month that Hilas and Bunar
should guard the Passes as soon as the State's troops
were withdrawn. At that time — it was after we
two met — I, who had been selling tea in Leh,
became a clerk of accounts in the Army. When
the troops were withdrawn, I was left behind to
pay the coolies who made new roads in the Hills.
This road-making was part of the bond between
Bunar, Hilas, and the Government."
"So; and then?"
" I tell you, it was jolly beastly cold up there
too, after summer," said Hurree Babu confiden-
tially. " I was afraid these Bunar men would cut
my throat every night for thee pay-chest. My
native sepoy-guard, they laughed at me ! By Jove !
I was such a fearful man. Nevar mind thatt. I
go on colloquially. ... I send word many times
363
KIM
that these two Kings were sold to the North ; and
Mahbub Ali, who was yet farther north, amply
confirmed it. Nothing was done. Only my feet
were frozen, and a toe dropped off. I sent word
that the roads for which I was paying money to
the diggers were being made for the feet of stran-
gers and enemies."
"For*?"
" For the Russians. The thing was an open jest
among the coolies. Then I was called down to
tell what I knew by speech of tongue. Mahbub
came South too. See the end ! Over the Passes
this year after snow-melting" — he shivered afresh
— "come two strangers under cover of shooting
wild goats. They bear guns, but they bear also
chains and levels and compasses."
" Oho ! The thing gets clearer."
" They are well received by Hilas and Bunar.
They make great promises ; they speak as the
mouthpiece of a Kaisar with gifts. Up the valleys,
down the valleys go they, saying, ' Here is a place
to build a breastwork; here can ye pitch a fort.
Here can ye hold the road against an army' —
the very roads for which I paid out the rupees
monthly. The Government knows, but does
nothing. The three other Kings, who were not
paid for guarding the Passes, tell them by runner
of the bad faith of Bunar and Hilas. When all
the evil is done, look you — when these two stran-
KIM
gers with the levels and the compasses make the
Five Kings to believe that a great army will sweep
the Passes to-morrow or the next day — Hill-peo-
ple are all fools — comes the order to me, Hurree
Babu, ' Go North and see what those strangers do.'
I say to Creighton Sahib, ' This is not a lawsuit,
that we go about to collect evidence.' " He re-
turned to his English with a jerk : " ' By Jove,' I
said, ' why the dooce do you not issue demi-offee-
cial orders to some brave man to poison them, for
an example *? It is, if you permit the observation,
most reprehensible laxity on your part.' And
Colonel Creighton, he laughed at me I It is all
your beastly English pride. You think no one
dare conspire I That is all tommy-rott."
Kim smoked slowly, revolving the business, so
far as he understood it, in his quick mind.
" Then thou goest forth to follow the stran-
gers ? "
" No ; to meet them. They are coming in to
Simla to send down their horns and heads to be
dressed at Calcutta. They are exclusively sport-
ing gentlemen, and they are allowed special faceeli-
ties by the Government. Of course, we always do
that. It is our British pride."
" Then what is to fear from them ? "
" By Jove, they are not black people. I can do
all sorts of things with black people, of course.
They are Russians, and highly unscrupulous peo-
KIM
pie. I — I do not want to consort with them
without a witness."
" Will they kill thee ? "
" Oah, thatt is nothing. I am good enough
Herbert Spencerian, I trust, to meet little thing
like death, which is all in my fate, you know.
But — but they may beat me."
" Why ? "
Hurree Babu snapped his fingers with irritation.
" Of course I shall affeeliate myself to their camp
in supernumerary capacity as perhaps interpreter,
or person mentally impotent and hungree, or some
such thing. And then I must pick up what I can,
I suppose. That is as easy for me as playing
Mister Doctor to the old lady. Onlee — onlee —
you see, Mister O'Hara, I am unfortunately Asi-
atic, which is serious detriment in some respects.
And alho I am Bengali — a fearful man."
" God made the Hare and the Bengali. What
shame ? " said Kim, quoting the proverb.
" It was process of Evolution, / think, from
Primal Necessity, but the fact remains in all its
cvi bono. I am, oh, awfully fearful I — I remember
once they wanted to cut off my head on the road
to Lhassa. (No, I have never reached to Lhassa.)
I sat down and cried. Mister O'Hara, anticipating
Chinese tortures. I do not suppose these two
gentlemen will torture me, but I like to provide
for possible contingency with European assistance
366
KIM
in emergency." He coughed and spat out the
cardamoms. " It is purely unofFeecial indent, to
which you can say 'No, Babu,' If you have no
pressing engagement with your old man — perhaps
you might divert him; perhaps I can seduce his
fancies — I should like you to keep in Depart-
mental touch with me till I find those sporting
coves. I have great opeenion of you since I met
my friend at Delhi. And also I will embody your
name in my ofFeecial report when matter is finally
adjudicated. It will be a great feather in your
cap. That is why I come really."
" Humph ! The end of the tale, I think, is
true ; but what of the fore-part ? "
" About the Five Kings ? Oah I there is ever
so much truth in it. A lots more than you would
suppose," said Hurree earnestly. " You come —
eh *? I go from here straight into the Doon. It is
verree verdant and painted meads. I shall go to
Mussoorie — to good old Munsoorie Pahar, as the
gentlemen and ladies say. Then by Rampur into
Chini. That is the only way they can come. I do
not like waiting in the cold, but we must wait for
them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You
see, one Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my
French pretty well. I have friends in Chander-
nagore."
''He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills
again," said Kim meditatively. "All his speech
KIM
these ten days past has been of little else. If we
go together — "
" Oah ! We can be quite strangers on the
road, if your lama prefers. I shall just be four or
five miles ahead. There is no hurry for Hurree.
That is an Europe pun, ha I ha I and you come
after. There is plenty of time ; they will plot and
survey and map of course. I shall go to-morrow,
and you the next day, if you choose. Eh *? You
go think on it till morning. By Jove, it is near
morning now." He yawned ponderously, and
with never a civil word lumbered off to his sleep-
ing-place. But Kim slept little, and his thoughts
ran in Hindustanee :
"Well is the Game called great I I was four
days a scullion at Ouetta, waiting on the wife of
the man whose book I stole. And that was part
of the Great Game I From the South — God
knows how far — came up the Mahratta, playing
the Great Game in fear of his life. Now I shall go
far and far into the North playing the Great Game.
Truly, it runs like a shuttle throughout all Hind.
And my share and my joy" — he smiled to the
darkness — " I owe to the lama here. Also to
Mahbub Ali — also to Creighton Sahib, but chiefly
to the Holy One. He is right — a great and a
wonderful world — and I am Kim — Kim — Kim
— alone — one person — in the middle of it all.
But I will see these strangers with their levels and
chains . . ."
368
KIM
" What was the upshot of last night's babble ? "
said the lama, after his orisons.
"There came a strolling seller of drugs — a
hanger-on of the Sahiba's. Him I abolished by
arguments and prayers, proving that our charms
are worthier than his coloured waters."
" Alas ! my charms. Is the virtuous woman
still bent upon a new one ? "
" Very strictly."
"Then it must be written, or she will deafen me
with her clamour." He fumbled at his pen-
case.
" In the Plains," said Kim, " are always too
many people. In the Hills, as I understand,
there are fewer."
"Oh I the Hills, and the snow upon the Hills."
The lama tore off a tiny square of paper fit to go
in an amulet. "But what dost thou know of the
Hills?"
" They are very close." Kim thrust open the
door and looked at the long, peaceful line of the
Himalayas flushed in morning-gold. " Except in
the dress of a Sahib, I have never set foot among
them."
The lama snuffed the wind wistfully.
"If we go North," — Kim put the question to
the waking sunrise, — "would not much mid-day
heat be avoided by walking among the lower
hills at least ? ... Is the charm made. Holy
One ? "
KIM
" I have written the names of seven silly devils
— not one of whom is worth a grain of dust in the
eye. Thus do foolish women drag us from the
Way ! "
Hurree Babu came out from behind the dovecot,
washing his teeth with ostentatious ritual. Full-
fleshed, heavy-haunched, bull-necked, and deep-
voiced, he did not look like "a fearful man." Kim
signed almost imperceptibly that matters were in
good train, and when the morning toilet was over
Hurree Babu, in flowery speech, came to do hon-
our to the lama. They ate, of course, apart, and
afterwards the old lady, more or less veiled behind
a window, returned to the vital business of green-
mango colics in the young. The lama's know-
ledge of medicine was of course sympathetic only.
He believed that the dung of a black horse, mixed
with sulphur, and carried in a snake-skin, was a
sound remedy for cholera; but the symbolism
interested him far more than the science. Hurree
Babu deferred to these views with enchanting
politeness, so that the lama called him a courteous
physician. Hurree Babu replied that he was no
more than an inexpert dabbler in the mysteries;
but at least — he thanked the Gods therefor — he
knew when he sat in the presence of a master.
He himself had been taught by the Sahibs, who do
not consider expense, in the lordly halls of Calcutta;
but, as he was ever first to acknowledge, there
KIM
lay a wisdom behind earthly wisdom — the high
and lonely lore of meditation. Kim looked on
with envy. The Hurree Babu of his knowledge —
oily, effusive, and nervous — was gone; gone too
was the brazen drug-vendor of overnight. There
remained — polished, polite, attentive — a sober,
learned son of experience and adversity, gathering
wisdom from the lama's lips. The old lady con-
fided to Kim that these rare levels were beyond
her. She liked charms with plenty of ink that
one could wash off in water, swallow, and be done
with. Else what was the use of the Gods ? She
liked men and women, and she spoke of them — of
kinglets she had known in the past; of her own
youth and beauty; of the depredations of leopards
and the eccentricities of love Asiatic ; of the
incidence of taxation, rack-renting, funeral cere-
monies, her son-in-law (this by allusion, easy to
be followed), the care of the young, and the age's
lack of decency. And Kim, as interested in the
life of this world as she soon to leave it, squatted
with his feet under the hem of his robe, drinking
all in, while the lama demolished one after another
every theory of body-curing put forward by Hurree
Babu.
At noon the Babu strapped up his brass-bound
drug-box, took his patent-leather shoes of ceremony
in one hand, a gay blue and white umbrella in the
other, and set off northwards to the Doon, where,
KIM
he said, he was in demand among the lesser kings
of those parts.
" We will go in the cool of the evening, chela"
said the lama. " That doctor, learned in physic
and courtesy, affirms that the people among these
lower hills are devout, generous, and much in need
of a teacher. In a very short time — so says the
hakiiJi — we come to cool air and the smell of pines."
"Ye go to the Hills. And by Kulu-road'? Oh,
thrice happy! " shrilled the old lady. " But that I
am a little pressed with the care of the homestead
I would take palanquin . . . but that would be
shameless, and my reputation would be cracked.
Ho I Ho I I know the road — every march of
the road I know. Ye will find charity through-
out— it is not denied to the well-looking. I will
give orders for provision. A servant to set you
forth upon your journey ? No. . . . Then I will
at least cook ye good food."
"What a woman is the Sahiba ! " said the white-
bearded Oorya, when a tumult rose by the kitchen
quarters. " She has never forgotten a friend : she
has never forgotten an enemy in all her years. And
her cookery — wahl " He rubbed his slim stomach.
There were cakes, there were sweetmeats, there
was cold fowl stewed to rags with rice and prunes
— enough to burden Kim like a mule.
" I am old and useless," she said. " None now
love me — and none respect — but there are few to
KIM
compare with me when I call on the Gods and
squat to my cooking-pots. Come again, O people
of good will. Holy One and disciple, come again.
The room is always prepared ; the welcome is
always ready. . . . See the women do follow thy
chela too openly. / know the women of Kulu.
Take heed, chela^ lest he run away when he smells
his Hills again. . . . Hai I Do not tilt the rice-
bag upside down. . . . Bless the household, Holy
One, and forgive thy servant her stupidities."
She wiped her red old eyes on a corner of her
veil, and clucked throatily.
" Women talk," said the lama at last, " but that
is a woman's Infirmity. I gave her a charm. She
is upon the Wheel and wholly given over to the
shows of this life, but none the less, chela., she
is virtuous, kindly, hospitable — of a whole and
zealous heart. Who shall say she does not acquire
merit?"
"Not I, Holy One," said Kim, reslinging the
bountiful provision on his shoulders. " In my
mind — behind my eyes — I have tried to picture
such an one altogether freed from the Wheel —
desiring nothing, causing nothing — a nun, as it
were."
" And, O imp ? " The lama almost laughed
aloud.
" I cannot make the picture."
"Nor I. But there are many, many millions
373
KIM
of lives before her. She will get wisdom a little,
it may be, in each one."
"And will she forget how to make stews with
saffron upon that road *? "
" Thy mind is set on things unworthy. But
she has skill. I am refreshed all over. When we
reach the lower hills I shall be yet stronger. The
hakim spoke truly to me this morn when he said a
breath from the snows blows away twenty years
from the life of a man. We will go up into the
Hills — the high hills — up to the sound of snow-
water and the sound of the trees — for a little while.
The haki7n said that at any time we may return
to the Plains, for we do no more than skirt the
pleasant places. The hakim is full of learning;
but he is in no way proud. I spoke to him —
when thou wast talking to the Sahiba — of a certain
dizziness that lays hold upon the back of my neck
in the night, and he said it rose from excessive
heat — to be cured by cool air. Upon considera-
tion, I marvelled that I had not thought of such a
simple remedy."
"Didst thou tell him of thy Search?" said Kim,
a little jealously. He preferred to sway the lama
by his own speech — not through the wiles of
Hurree Babu.
" Assuredly. I told him of my dream, and of
the manner by which I had acquired merit by
causing thee to be taught wisdom."
374
KIM
" Thou didst not say I was a Sahib ? "
" What need ? I have told thee many times
we be but two souls seeking escape. He said —
and he is just herein — that the River of Healing
will break forth even as I dreamed — at my feet if
need be. Having found the Way, seest thou,
that shall free me from the Wheel, need I trouble
to find a way about the mere fields of earth —
which are illusion ^ That were senseless. I
have my dreams, night upon night repeated ; I
have the Jdtaka ; and I have thee, Friend of all
the World. It was written in thy horoscope that
a Red Bull on a green field — I have not forgotten
— should bring thee to honour. Who but I saw
that prophecy accomplished ? Indeed, I was the
instrument. Thou shalt find me my River, being
in return the instrument. The Search is sure I "
He set his ivory-yellow face, serene and un-
troubled, towards the beckoning Hills; his shadow
shouldering far before him in the dust.
375
XIII
Who hath desired the Sea — the immense and contemptuous
surges ?
The shudder, the stumble, the swerve ere the star-stabbing bow-
sprit emerges —
The orderly clouds of the trade and the ridged roaring sapphire
thereunder —
Unheralded clifF-luridng flaws and the head-sails' low-volleying
thunder ?
His Sea in no wonder the same — his Sea and the same in each
wonder —
His Sea that his being fulfils ?
So and no otherwise — so and no otherwise hillmen desire their
hills !
" Who goes to the Hills goes to his mother."
They had crossed the Sewaliks and the half^
tropical Doon, left Mussoorie behind them, and
headed north along the narrow hill-roads. Day
after day they struck deeper into the huddled
mountains, and day after day Kim watched the
lama return to a man's strength. Among the ter-
races of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's
shoulder, ready to profit by wayside halts. Under
the great ramp to Mussoorie he drew himself
KIM
together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered
bank, and where he should have sunk exhausted
swung his long draperies about him, drew a deep
double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as
only a hillman can. Kim, plains-bred and plains-
fed, sweated and panted astonished. " This is my
country," said the lama. " Beside Such-zen, this
is flatter than a rice-field " ; and with steady, driv-
ing strokes from the loins he strode upwards. But
it was on the steep downhill marches, three thou-
sand feet in three hours, that he went utterly away
from Kim, whose back ached with holding back,
and whose big toe was nigh cut off by his grass
sandal-string. Through the speckled shadow of
the great deodar-forests; through oak feathered
and plumed with ferns; birch, ilex, rhododendron,
and pine, out on to the bare hillsides' slippery
sunburnt grass, and back into the woodlands'
coolth again, till oak gave way to bamboo and
palm of the valley, he swung untiring.
Glancing back in the twilight at the huge
ridges behind him and the faint, thin line of
the road whereby they had come, he would lay
out, with a hillman's generous breadth of vision,
fresh marches for the morrow; or, halting in the
neck of some uplifted pass that gave on Spiti and
Kulu, would stretch out his hands yearningly
towards the high snows of the horizon. In the
dawns they flared windy-red above stark blue, as
377
KIM
Kedarnath and Badrinath — kings of diat wilder-
ness — took, the first sunlight. All day long they
lay like molten silver under the sun, and at evening
put on their jewels again. At first they breathed
temperately upon the travellers, winds good to
meet when one crawled over some gigantic hog-
back; but in a few days, at a height of nine or ten
thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly
allowed a village of hillmen to acquire merit by
giving him a rough blanket-coat. The lama was
mildly surprised that any one should object to the
knife-edged breezes which had cut the years off
his shoulders.
" These are but the lower hills, chela. There is
no cold till we come to the true Hills."
" Air and water are good, and the people are
devout enough, but the food is very bad," Kim
growled ; " and we walk as though we were mad
— or English. It freezes at night, too."
"A little, maybe; but only enough to make
old bones rejoice in the sun. We must not
always delight in the soft beds and rich food."
" We might at the least keep to the road."
Kim had all a plainsman's affection for the
well-trodden track, not six feet wide, that snaked
among the mountains; but the lama, being Tibetan,
could not refrain from short cuts over spurs and
the rims of gravel-strewn slopes. As he explained
to his limping disciple, a man bred among moun-
378
KIM
tains can prophesy the course of a mountain-
road, and though low-lying clouds might be a
hindrance to a short-cutting stranger, they made no
earthly difference to a thoughtful man. Thus,
after long hours of what would be reckoned very
fair mountaineering in civilised countries, they
would pant over a saddle-back, sidle past a few
landslips, and drop through forest at an angle of
forty-five on to the road again. Along their track
lay the villages of the hill-folk — mud and earth
huts, timbers now and then rudely carved with an
axe — clinging like swallows' nests against the
steeps, huddled on tiny flats half-way down a three-
thousand-foot glissade ; jammed into a corner
between cliffs that funnelled and focussed every
wandering blast ; or, for the sake of summer pas-
ture, cowering down on a neck that in winter
would be ten feet deep in snow. And the people
— the sallow, greasy, duffle-clad people, with
short bare legs and faces almost Esquimaux —
would flock out and adore. The Plains — kindly
and gentle — had treated the lama as a holy man
among holy men. But the Hills worshipped him as
one in the confidence of all the devils. Theirs was
an almost obliterated Buddhism, overlaid with a
nature-worship fantastic as their own landscapes,
elaborate as the terracing of their tiny fields ;
but they recognised the big hat, the clicking
rosary, and the rare Chinese texts for great au-
379
KIM
thority; and they respected the man under the
hat.
" We saw thee come down over the black
Breasts of Eua," said a Betah who gave them
cheese, sour milk, and stone-hard bread one even-
ing. " We do not use that often — except when
calving cows stray in summer." There is a sudden
wind among those stones that casts men down on
the stillest day. But what should such folk care
for the Devil of Eua!
Then did Kim, aching in every fibre, dizzy
with looking down, footsore with cramping des-
perate toes into inadequate crannies, take joy in
the day's march — such joy as a boy of St. Xavier's
who had won the quarter-mile on the flat might
take in the praises of his friends. The hills
sweated the ghi and sugar suet off his bones;
the dry air, taken sobbingly at the head of cruel
passes, firmed and built out his upper ribs ; and
the tilted levels put new hard muscles into calf
and thigh.
They meditated often on the Wheel of Life —
the more so since, as the lama said, they were
freed from its visible temptations. Except the
gray eagle and an occasional far-seen bear grubbing
and rooting on the hillside, the vision of a furious
painted leopard .met at dawn in a still valley de-
vouring a goat, and now and again a bright-
coloured bird, they were alone with the winds and
380
KIM
the grass singing under the wind. The women of
the smoky huts over whose roofs the two walked
as they descended the mountains were unlovely and
unclean, wives of many husbands, and afflicted
with goitre. The men were wood-cutters when
they were not farmers — meek, and of an incredi-
ble simplicity. But that suitable discourse might
not fail, Fate sent them, overtaking and overtaken
upon the road, the courteous Dacca physician, who
paid for his food in ointments good for goitre and
counsels that restore peace between men and
women. He seemed to know these hills as well
as he knew the hill dialects, and gave the lama
the lie of the land towards Ladakh and Tibet.
He said they could return to the Plains at any
moment. Meantime, for such as loved moun-
tains, yonder road might amuse. This was not
all revealed in a breath, but at evening encoun-
ters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients
disposed of, the doctor would smoke and the
lama snuff, while Kim watched the wee cows
grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after
his eye across the deep blue gulfs between range
and range. And there were talks apart in the
dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs,
and Kim, as budding physician, must accompany
him.
" You see. Mister O'Hara, I do not know what
the deuce-an'-all I shall do when I find our sport-
38'
KIM
ing friends; but if you will kindly keep within
sight of my umbrella, which is fine fixed point for
cadastral survey, I feel much better."
Kim looked out across the jungle of peaks.
" This is not my country, haki?n. Easier, I think,
to find one louse in a bear-skin."
" Oah, thatt is my strong points. There is no
hurry for Hurree. They were at Leh not so long
ago. They said they had come down from the
Kara Korum with their heads and horns and all.
I am onlee afraid they will have sent back all their
letters and compromising things from Leh into
Russian territoree. Of course they will walk away
as far to the East as possible — just to show that
they were never among the Western States. You
do not know the Hills ? " He scratched with a
twig on the earth. " Look ! They should have
come in by Srinagar or Abbottabad. T'hatt is
their short road — down the river by Bunji and
Astor. But they have made mischief in the West.
So " — he drew a furrow from left to right — " they
march and they march away East to Leh (ah I it
is cold there), and down the Indus to Han-le (I
know that road), and then down, you see, to
Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained
by process of elimination, and also by asking
questions from people that I cure so well. Our
friends have been a long time playing about and
producing impressions. So they are well known
382
1
KIM
from far off. You will see me catch them some-
where in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on
the umbrella."
It nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the
valleys and round the mountain-sides, and in
due time the lama and Kim, who steered by com-
pass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and
powders at eventide. " We came by such and
such a way!" The lama would throw a careless
finger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella
would expend itself in compliments.
They crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight,
when the lama, mildly chaffing Kim, went through
up to his knees, like a Bactrian camel — the snow-
bred, shag-haired sort that come into the Kashmir
Serai. They dipped across beds of light snow and
snow-powdered shale, where they took refuge from
a gale in a camp of Tibetans hurrying down tiny
sheep, each laden with a bag of borax. They came
out upon grassy shoulders still snow-speckled, and
through forest, to grass anew. For all their
marchings, Kedarnath and Badrinath were not im-
pressed ; and it was only after days of travel that
Kim, uplifted upon some insignificant ten-thou-
sand-foot hummock, could see that a shoulder-knot
or horn of the two great lords had — ever so slightly
— changed outline.
At last they entered a world within a world — a
valley of leagues where the high hills were fashioned
383
KIM
of the mere rubble and refuse from off the knees of
the mountains. Here one day's march carried them
no farther, it seemed, than a dreamer's clogged
pace bears him in a nightmare. They skirted a
shoulder painfully for hours, and, behold, it was but
an outlying boss in an outlying buttress of the main
pile ! A rounded meadow revealed itself, when
they had reached it, for a vast tableland running
far into the valley. Three days later, it was a dim
fold in the earth to southward.
" Surely the Gods live here," said Kim, beaten
down by the silence and the appalling sweep and
dispersal of the cloud-shadows after rain. " This
is no place for men I "
"Long and long ago," said the lama, as to him-
self, " it was asked of the Lord whether the world
were everlasting. To this the Excellent One
returned no answer. . . . When I was in Ceylon,
a wise Seeker confirmed that from the gospel which
is written in Pali. Certainly, since we know the
way to Freedom, the question were unprofitable,
but — look, and know illusion, chela ! These are
the true Hills I They are like my hills by Such-
zen. Never were such hills ! "
Above them, still enormously above them, earth
towered away towards the snow-line, where from
east to west across hundreds of miles, ruled as
with a ruler, the last of the bold birches stopped.
Above that, in scarps and blocks upheaved, the
384
KIM
rocks strove to fight their heads above the white
smother. Above these again, changeless since the
world's beginning, but changing to every mood
of sun and cloud, lay out the eternal snow.
They could see blots and blurs on its face where
storm and wandering williwaw got up to dance.
Below them, as they stood, the forest slid away
in a sheet of blue-green for mile upon mile; below
the forest was a village in its sprinkle of terraced
fields and steep grazing-grounds ; below the village
they knew, though a thunderstorm worried and
growled there for the moment, a pitch of twelve
or fifteen hundred feet gave to the moist valley
where the streams gather that are the mothers of
young Sutluj.
As usual, the lama had led Kim by cow-track
and byroad, far from the main route along which
Hurree Babu, that "fearful man," had bucketed
three days before through a storm to which nine
Englishmen out of ten would have given full right
of way. Hurree was no game-shot, — the snick of
a trigger made him change colour, — but, as he him-
self would have said, he was " fairly effeecient
stalker," and he had raked the huge valley with a
pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. More-
over, the white of worn canvas tents against green
carries far. Hurree Babu had seen all he wanted
to see when he sat on the threshing-floor of Ziglaur,
twenty miles away as the eagle flies, and forty by
385
KIM
road — that is to say, two small dots which one
day were just below the snow-line, and the next
had moved downward perhaps six inches on the
hillside. Once cleaned out and set to the work,
his tat bare legs could cover a surprising amount
of ground, and this was the reason why, while Kim
and the lama lay in a leaky hut at Ziglaur till
the storm should be overpassed, an oily, wet, but
always smiling Bengali, talking the best of English
with the vilest of phrases, was ingratiating himself
with two sodden and rather rheumatic foreigners.
He had arrived, revolving many wild schemes, on
the heels of a thunderstorm which had split a pine
over against their camp, and so convinced a dozen
or two forcibly impressed baggage-coolies the day
was inauspicious for farther travel that with one
accord they had thrown down their loads and
jibbed. They were subjects of a Hill-Rajah who
farmed out their services, as is the custom, for his
private gain ; and, to add to their personal distresses,
the strange Sahibs had already threatened them
with rifles. The most of them knew rifles and
Sahibs of old : they were trackers and shikarris of
the Northern valleys, keen after bear and wild
goat; but they had never been thus treated in
their lives. So the forest took them to her bosom,
and, for all oaths and clamour, refused to restore.
There was no need to feign madness or — the
Babu had thought of another means of securing a
386
KIM
welcome. He wrung out his wet clothes, sHpped
on his patent-leather shoes, opened the blue and
white umbrella, and with mincing gait and a heart
beating against his tonsils appeared as " agent for
His Royal Highness, the Rajah of Rampur, gentle-
men. What can I do for you, please ■? "
The gentlemen were delighted. One was visibly
French, the other Russian, but they spoke English
not much inferior to the Babu's. They begged his
kind offices. Their native servants had gone sick
at Leh. They had hurried on because they were
anxious to bring the spoils of the chase to Simla
ere the skins grew moth-eaten. They bore a
general letter of introduction (the Babu salaamed
to it orientally) to all Government officials. No,
they had not met any other shooting-parties en route.
They did for themselves. They had plenty of
supplies. They only wished to push on as soon
as might be. At this he waylaid a cowering hill-
man among the trees, and after three minutes' talk
and a little silver (one cannot be economical upon
State service, though Hurree's heart bled at the
waste) the eleven coolies and the three hangers-on
reappeared. At least the Babu would be a witness
to oppression.
"My royal master, he will be much annoyed,
but these people are onlee common people and
grossly ignorant. If your honours will kindly
overlook unfortunate affair, I shall be much
387
KIM
pleased. In a little while rain will stop and we
can then proceed. You have been shooting, eh ?
That is fine performance I "
He skipped nimbly from one hilta to the next,
making pretence to adjust each conical basket.
The Englishman is not, as a rule, familiar with
the Asiatic, but he would not strike across the
wrist a kindly Babu who had accidentally upset a
kilta with a red oil-skin top. On the other hand,
he would not press drink upon a Babu were he
never so friendly, nor would he invite him to
meat. The strangers did all these things, and
asked many questions, — about women mostly, —
to which Hurree returned gay and unstudied
answers. They gave him a glass of whitish fluid
like to gin, and then more ; and in a little time
his gravity departed from him. He became thickly
treasonous, and spoke in terms of sweeping in-
decency of a Government which had forced upon
him a white man's education and neglected to
supply him with a white man's salary. He babbled
tales of oppression and wrong till the tears ran
down his cheeks for the miseries of his land. Then
he staggered off, singing love-songs of Lower
Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk.
Never was so unfortunate a product of English
rule in India more unhappily thrust upon aliens.
" They are all just of that pattern," said one
sportsman to the other in French. " When we
388
KIM
get into India proper thou wilt see. I should like
to visit his Rajah. One might speak the good
word there. It is possible that he has heard of us
and wishes to signify his good will."
" We have not time. We must get into Simla
as soon as may be," his companion replied. " For
my own part, I wish our reports had been sent
back from Hilas, or even Leh."
"The English post is better and safer. Remem-
ber we are given all facilities — and name of God!
— they give them to us too I Is it unbelievable
stupidity?"
" It is pride — pride that deserves and will re-
ceive punishment."
" Yes ! To fight a fellow-Continental in our
game is something. There is a risk attached, but
these people — bah I It is too easy."
" Pride — all pride, my friend."
" Now what the deuce is good of Chandernagore
being so close to Calcutta and all," said Hurree,
snoring open-mouthed on the sodden moss, " if I
cannot understand their French*? They talk so
par//(fularly fast ! It would have been much
better to cut their beastly throats."
When he presented himself again he was racked
with a headache — penitent, and volubly afraid that
in his drunkenness he might have been indiscreet.
He loved the British Government — it was the
source of all prosperity and honour, and his master
389
KIM
at Rampur held the very same opinion. Upon
this the men began to deride him and to quote
past words, till step by step, with deprecating
smirks, oily grins, and leers of infinite cunning,
the poor Babu was beaten out of his defences and
forced to speak — truth. When Lurgan was told
the tale later, he mourned aloud that he could not
have been in the place of the stubborn, inattentive
coolies, who, with grass mats over their heads and
the raindrops puddling in their footprints, waited
on the weather. All the Sahibs of their acquain-
tance— rough-clad men joyously returning year
after year to their chosen gullies — had servants
and cooks and orderlies, very often hillmen.
These Sahibs travelled without any retinue.
Therefore they were poor Sahibs, and ignorant ;
for no Sahib in his senses would follow a Bengali's
advice. But the Bengali, appearing from some-
where, had given them money, and would make
shift with their dialect. Used to comprehensive
ill-treatment from their own colour, they sus-
pected a trap somewhere, and stood by to run if
occasion offered.
Then through the new-washed air, steaming
with delicious earth-smells, the Babu led the way
down the slopes — walking ahead of the coolies in
pride ; walking behind the foreigners in humility.
His thoughts were many and various. The least
of them would have interested his companions be-
KIM
yond words. But he was an agreeable guide, ever
keen to point out the beauties of his royal master's
domain. He peopled the hills with anything they
had a mind to slay — thar, ibex, or markhor, and
bears by Elisha's allowance. He discoursed of
botany and ethnology with unimpeachable in-
accuracy, and his store of local legends — he had
been a trusted agent of the State for fifteen years,
remember — was inexhaustible.
" Decidedly this fellow is an original," said the
taller of the two foreigners. " He is like the
nightmare of a Viennese courier."
" He represents in petto India in transition — the
monstrous hybridism of East and West," the Russian
replied. "It is ive who can deal with Orientals."
" He has lost his own country and has not ac-
quired any other. But he has a most complete
hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confides to
me last night," etc.
Under the striped umbrella Hurree Babu was
straining ear and brain to follow the quick-poured
French, and keeping both eyes on a kilta full of
maps and documents — an extra large one with a
double red oil-skin cover. He did not wish to
steal anything. He only desired to know what to
steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when he
had stolen it. He thanked all the Gods of Hindu-
stan, and Herbert Spencer, that there remained
some valuables to steal.
KIM
On the second day the road rose steeply to a
grass spur above the forest ; and it was here, about
sunset, that they came across an aged lama — but
they called him a bonze — sitting cross-legged
above a mysterious chart held down by stones,
which he was explaining to a young man, evi-
dently a neophyte, of singular, though unwashen,
beauty. The striped umbrella had been sighted
half a march away, and Kim had suggested a halt
till it came up to them.
" Ha I " said Hurree Babu, resourceful as Puss-
in-Boots. " That is eminent local holy man.
Probably subject of my royal master."
" What is he doing *? It is very curious."
" He is expounding holy picture — all hand-
worked."
The two men stood bare-headed in the wash of
the afternoon sunlight low across the gold-coloured
grass. The sullen coolies, glad of the check,
halted and slid down their loads.
" Look ! " said the Frenchman. " It is like a
picture for the birth of a religion — the first
teacher and the first disciple. Is he a Bud-
dhist?"
" Of some debased kind," the other answered.
" There are no true Buddhists among the Hills.
But look at the folds of the drapery. Look at his
eyes — how insolent! Why does this make one
feel that we are so young a people*? " The
392
KIM
speaker struck passionately at a tall weed. " We
have nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere! lihat^
do you understand, is what disquiets me." He
scowled at the placid face, and the monumental
calm of the pose.
"Have patience. We shall make your mark
together — we and you young people. Mean-
time, draw his picture."
The Babu advanced loftily ; his back out of all
keeping with his deferential speech, or his wink
towards Kim.
" Holy One, these be Sahibs. My medicines
cured one of a flux, and I go into Simla to oversee
his recovery. They wish to see thy picture — "
" To heal the sick is always good. This is the
Wheel of Life," said the lama, " the same I
showed thee in the hut at Ziglaur when the rain
fell."
" And to hear thee expound it."
The lama's eyes lighted at the prospect of new
listeners. " To expound the Most Excellent Way
is good. Have they any knowledge of Hindi,
such as had the Keeper of Images ? "
" A little, maybe."
Hereat, simply as a child engrossed with a new
game, the lama threw back his head and began the
full-throated invocation of the Doctor of Divinity
ere he opens the full doctrine. The strangers
leaned on their alpenstocks and listened. Kim,
393
KIM
squatting humbly, watched the red sunlight on
their faces, and the blend and parting of their
long shadows. They wore un-English leggings
and curious girt-in belts that reminded him hazily
of the pictures in a book at St. Xavier's library:
I'be Adventures of a Toung Naturalist in Mexico
was its name. Yes, they looked very like the
wonderful M. Sumichrast of that tale, and very
unlike the " highly unscrupulous folk " of Hur-
ree Babu's imagining. The coolies, earth-col-
oured and mute, crouched reverently some twenty
or thirty yards away, and the Babu, the slack
of his thin gear snapping like a marking-flag
in the chill breeze, stood by with an air of happy
proprietorship.
" These are the men," Hurree whispered, as the
ritual went on and the two whites followed the
grass blade sweeping from Hell to Heaven and
back again. " All their books are in the large
kilta with the reddish top, — books and reports and
maps, — and I have seen a King's letter that either
Hilas or Bunar has written. They guard it most
carefully. They have sent nothing back from
Hilas or Leh. That is sure."
" Who is with them ? "
" Only the beegar-cooYits. They have no ser-
vants. They are so close they cook their own
food."
"But what am I to do?"
394
KIM
" Wait and see. Only if any chance comes
to me thou wilt know where to seek for the
papers."
" This were better in Mahbub Ali's hands than
a Bengali's," said Kim scornfully.
" There are more ways of getting to a sweet-
heart than butting down a wall."
"See here the Hell appointed for avarice and
greed. Flanked upon the one side by Desire and
on the other by Weariness." The lama warmed
to his work, and one of the strangers sketched him
in the quick-fading light.
" That is enough, " the man said at last
brusquely. " I cannot understand him, but I want
that picture. He is a better artist than I. Ask
him if he will sell it."
" He says ' No, Sar,' " the Babu replied. The
lama, of course, would no more have parted with
his chart to a casual wayfarer than an archbishop
would pawn the holy vessels of a cathedral. All
Tibet is full of cheap reproductions of the Wheel;
but the lama was an artist, as well as a wealthy
abbot in his own place.
" Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I
perceive that the Sahib is a Seeker and of good
understanding, I may myself draw him another.
But this was used for the initiation of a novice.
Tell him so, hahhnr
" He wishes it now — for money."
395
KIM
The lama shook his head slowly and began to
fold up the Wheel. The Russian, on his side,
saw no more than an unclean old man haggling
over a dirty piece of paper. He drew out a hand-
ful of rupees, and snatched half-jestingly at the
chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low mur-
mur of horror went up from the coolies — some
of whom were Spiti men and, by their lights,
good Buddhists. The lama rose at the insult ;
his hand went to the heavy iron pencase that is
the priest's weapon, and the Babu danced in
agony.
"Now you see — you see why I wanted wit-
nesses. They are highly unscrupulous people.
Oh Sar ! Sar I You must not hit holy man I "
" Chela ! He has defiled the Written Word ! "
It was too late. Before Kim could ward him
off, the Russian struck the old man full on the face.
Next instant he was rolling over and over down
hill with Kim at his throat. The blow had waked
every unknown Irish devil in the boy's blood, and
the sudden fall of his enemy did the rest. The
lama dropped to his knees, half-stunned ; the
coolies under their loads fled up the hill as fast as
plainsmen run across the level. They had seen
sacrilege unspeakable, and it behoved them to get
away before the Gods and devils of the hills took
vengeance. The Frenchman ran towards the
lama, fumbling at his revolver with some notion
KIM
of making him a hostage for his companion, A
shower of cutting stones — hillmen are very straight
shots — drove him away, and a coolie from Ao-
chung snatched the lama into the stampede. All
came about as swiftly as the sudden mountain-
darkness.
" They have taken the baggage and all the
guns," yelled the Frenchman, firing blindly into
the twilight.
" All right, Sar ! All right ! Don't shoot. I
go to rescue," and Hurree, pounding down the
slope, cast himself bodily upon the delighted and
astonished Kim, who was banging his breathless
foe's head against a boulder.
" Go back to the coolies," whispered the Babu
in his ear. " They have the baggage. The pa-
pers are in the kilta with the red top, but look
through all. Take their papers, and specially the
murasla (King's letter). Go I The other man
comes ! "
Kim tore up hill. A revolver-bullet rang on a
rock by his side, and he cowered partridge-wise.
"If you shoot," shouted Hurree, "they will
descend and annihilate us. I have rescued the
gentleman, Sar. This is par//<rularly dangerous."
" By Jove ! " Kim was thinking hard in Eng-
lish. " This is dam-tight place, but / think it is
self-defence." He felt in his bosom for Mahbub's
gift, and uncertainly — save for a few practice shots
397
KIM
in the Bikaner desert, he had never used the little
gun — pulled trigger.
" What did I say, Sar ! " The Babu seemed to
be in tears. "Come down here and assist to resus-
citate. We are all up a tree, I tell you."
The shots ceased. There was a sound of stum-
bling feet, and Kim hurried upward through the
gloom, swearing like a cat — or a country-bred.
" Did they wound thee, chela ? " called the lama
above him.
" No. And thou ? " He dived into a clump of
stunted firs.
" Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk
to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow."
" But not before we have done justice," a voice
cried. " I have got the Sahibs' guns — all four.
Let us go down."
" He struck the Holy One — we saw it I Our
cattle will be barren — our wives will cease to bear I
The snows will slide upon us as we go home. . . .
On top of all other oppression too I "
The little fir-clump filled with clamouring coolies
— panic-stricken, and in their terror capable ot
anything. The man from Ao-chung clicked the
breech-bolt of his gun impatiently, and made as to
go down hill.
"Wait a little. Holy One; they cannot go far:
wait till I return."
" It is this person who has suffered wrong," said
the lama, his hand over his brow.
398
KIM
" For that very reason," was the reply.
" If this person overlooks it, your hands are
clean. Moreover, ye acquire merit by obedience."
"Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,"
the man insisted.
For a moment, for just so long as it needs to
stuff a cartridge into a breech-loader, the lama
hesitated. Then he rose to his feet, and laid a
finger on the man's shoulder,
" Hast thou heard ? / say there shall be no
killing — I who was Abbot of Such-zen. Is it any
lust of thine to be re-born as a rat, or a snake under
the eaves — a worm in the belly of the most mean
beast '? Is it thy wish to — "
The man from Ao-chung fell to his knees, for
the voice boomed like a Tibetan devil-gong.
" Ai ! ai ! " cried the Spiti men. " Do not curse
us — do not curse him. It was but his zeal. Holy
One I . . . Put down the rifle, fool ! "
"Anger on anger I Evil on evil I There will
be no killing. Let the priest-beaters go in bondage
to their own acts. Just and sure is the Wheel,
swerving not a hair ! They will be born many
times — in torment." His head drooped, and he
leaned heavily on Kim's shoulder.
" I have come near to great evil, chela" he
whispered in that dead hush under the pines. " I
was tempted to loose the bullet; and truly, in
Tibet there would have been a heavy and a slow
death for them. . . . He struck me across the
399
KIM
face . . . upon the flesh . . ." He sHd to the
ground, breathing heavily, and Kim could hear
the over-driven heart bump and check,
" Have they hurt him to the death ? " said the
Ao-chung man, while the others stood mute.
Kim knelt over the body in deadly fear. " Nay,"
he cried passionately, " this is only a weakness."
Then he remembered that he was a white man,
with a white man's camp-fittings at his service.
" Open the kiltas ! The Sahibs may have a
medicine."
" Oho I Then I know it," said the Ao-chung
man with a laugh. " Not for five years was I
Yankling Sahib's shikarri without knowing that
medicine. I too have tasted it. Behold I "
He drew from his breast a bottle of cheap
whisky — such as is sold to explorers at Leh — and
cleverly forced a little between the lama's teeth.
" So I did when Yankling Sahib twisted his foot
beyond Astor. Aha I I have already looked into
their baskets — but we will make fair division at
Shamlegh. Give him a little more. It is good
medicine. Feel ! His heart goes better now. Lay
his head down and rub a little on the chest. If
he had waited quietly while I accounted for the
Sahibs this would never have come. But perhaps
the Sahibs may chase us here. Then it would not
be wrong to shoot them with their own guns, heh?"
" One is paid, I think, already," said Kim be-
400
KIM
tween his teeth. " I kicked him in the groin as
we went down hill. Would I had killed him ! "
" It is well to be brave when one does not live
in Rampur," said one whose hut lay within a few
miles of the Rajah's rickety palace. " If we get
a bad name among the Sahibs, none will employ us
as shikarris any more,"
"Oh, but these are not Angrezi Sahibs — not
merry-minded men like Fostum Sahib or Yankling
Sahib. They are foreigners — they cannot speak
Angrezi as do Sahibs."
Here the lama coughed and sat up, groping
for the rosary.
" There shall be no killing," he murmured.
" Just is the Wheel I Evil on evil — "
"Nay, Holy One. We are all here." The
Ao-chung man timidly patted his feet. "Except
by thy order, no one shall be slain. Rest awhile.
We will make a little camp here, and later, as the
moon rises, we go to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow."
"After a blow," said a Spiti man sententiously,
" it is best to sleep."
" There is, as it were, a dizziness at the back of
my neck, and a pinching in it. Let me lay my
head on thy lap, chela. I am an old man, but not
free from passion. . . . We must think of the
Cause of Things."
"Give him a blanket. We dare not light a
fire lest the Sahibs see."
401
KIM
"Better get away to Shamlegh. None will follow
us to Shamlegh."
This was the nervous Rampur man,
" I have been Fostum Sahib's shikarri, and I am
Yankling Sahib's shikcirrL I should have been
with Yankling Sahib now but for this cursed
heegar (the corvee). Let two men watch below
with the guns lest the Sahibs do more foolishness.
/ shall not leave this Holy One."
They sat down a little apart from the lama,
and, after listening awhile, passed round a water-
pipe whose receiver was an old Day and Martin
blacking-bottle. The glow of the red charcoal
as it went from hand to hand lit up the narrow,
blinking eyes, the high Chinese cheek-bones, and
the bull-throats that melted away into the dark
duffle folds round the shoulders. They looked
like kobolds from some magic mine — gnomes of
the hills in conclave. And while they talked, the
voices of the snow-waters round them diminished
one by one as the night-frost choked and clogged
the runnels.
"How he stood up against us I " said a Spiti
man admiring. " I remember an old ibex, out
Ladakh-way, that Dupont Sahib missed on a
shoulder-shot, seven seasons back, standing up
just like him. Dupont Sahib was a good ski-
karri."
"Not as good as Yankling Sahib." The Ao-
402
KIM
chung man took a pull at the whisky-bottle and
passed it over. "Now hear me — unless any
other man thinks he knows more."
The challenge was not taken up.
" We go to Shamlegh when the moon rises.
There we will fairly divide the baggage between
us. I am content with this new little rifle and all
its cartridges."
" Are the bears only bad on thy holding *? " said
a mate, sucking at the pipe.
"No; but musk-pods are worth six rupees
apiece now, and thy women can have the canvas
of the tents and some of the cooking-gear. We
will do all that at Shamlegh before dawn. Then
we all go our ways, remembering that we have
never seen or taken service with these Sahibs, who
may, indeed, say that we have stolen their bag-
gage."
" That is well for thee, but what will our Rajah
say?"
" Who is to tell him ? Those Sahibs, who
cannot speak our talk, or the Babu, who for his
own ends gave us money ? Will he lead an army
against us ? What evidence will remain *? That
we do not need we shall throw on Shamlegh mid-
den, where no man has yet set foot."
"Who is at Shamlegh this summer*?" The
place was only a grazing centre of three or four
huts.
KIM
" The Woman of Shamlegh. She has no love
for Sahibs, as we know. The others can be
pleased with little presents; and here is enough
for us all." He patted the fat sides of the nearest
basket.
" But — but — "
" I have said they are not true Sahibs. All
their skins and heads were bought in the bazar at
Leh. / know the marks. I showed them to ye last
march."
" True. They were all bought skins and heads.
Some had even the moth in them."
That was a shrewd argument, and the Ao-chung
man knew his fellows.
" If the worst comes to the worst, I shall tell
Yankling Sahib, who is a man of a merry mind,
and he will laugh. We are not doing any wrong
to any Sahibs whom we know. T'bey are priest-
beaters. They frightened us. We fled I Who
knows where we dropped the baggage? Do ye
think Yankling Sahib will permit down-country
police to wander all over the hills, disturbing his
game '? It is a far cry from Simla to Chini, and
farther from Shamlegh to Shamlegh midden."
"So be it, but I carry the big h'lta. The basket
with the red top that the Sahibs pack themselves
every morning."
" Thus it is proved," said the Shamlegh man
adroitly, " that they are Sahibs of no account.
404
KIM
Who ever heard of Fostum Sahib, or Yankling
Sahib, or even the Httle Peel Sahib that sits up of
nights to shoot serow — I say, who ever heard of
these Sahibs coming into the hills without a down-
country cook, and a bearer, and — and all manner
of well-paid, high-handed and oppressive folk in
their tail ? How can they make trouble '( What
of the h'lta ? "
" Nothing, but that it is full of the Written
Word — books and papers in which they wrote,
and strange instruments, as of worship."
" Shamlegh midden will take them all."
" True ! But how if we insult the Sahibs'
Gods thereby^ I do not like to handle the
Written Word in that fashion. And their brass
idols are beyond my comprehension. It is no
plunder for simple hill-folk."
" The old man still sleeps. Hst I We will ask
his chelar The Ao-chung man refreshed himself,
and swelled with pride of leadership.
" We have here," he whispered, " a hilta whose
nature we do not know."
" But I do," said Kim cautiously. The lama
drew breath in natural, easy sleep, and Kim had
been thinking of Hurree's last words. As a player
of the Great Game, he was disposed just then to
reverence the Babu. " It is a hilta with a red top
full of very wonderful things, not to be handled by
fools."
405
KIM
" I said it ; I said it," cried the bearer of
that burden. "Thinkest thou it will betray
us?"
"Not if it be given to me. I will draw out its
magic. Otherwise it will do great harm,"
"A priest always takes his share." Whisky was
demoralising the Ao-chung man.
" It is no matter to me," Kim answered, with
the craft of his mother-country. " Share it among
you, and see what comes I "
" Not I. I was only jesting. Give the order.
There is more than enough for us all. We go our
way from Shamlegh in the dawn."
They arranged and re-arranged their artless little
plans for another hour, while Kim shivered with
cold and pride. The humour of the situation
tickled the Irish and the Oriental in his soul.
Here were the emissaries of the dread Power of
the North, very possibly as great in their own land
as Mahbub or Colonel Creighton, suddenly smitten
helpless. One of them, he privately knew, would
be lame for a time. They had made promises to
Kings. To-night they lay out somewhere below
him, chartless, foodless, tentless, gunless — except
for Hurree Babu, guideless. And this collapse of
their Great Game (Kim wondered to whom they
would report it), this panicky bolt into the night,
had come about through no craft of Hurree's or
contrivance of Kim's, but simply, beautifully, and
406
KIM
inevitably as the capture of Mahbub's faquir-
friends by the zealous young policeman at Umballa.
" They are there — with nothing ; and, by Jove,
it is cold ! I am here with all their things. Oh,
they will be angry ! I am sorry for Hurree
Babu."
Kim might have saved his pity, for though at
that moment the Bengali suffered acutely in the
flesh, his soul was puffed and lofty. A mile down
the hill, on the edge of the pine-forest, two half-
frozen men — one powerfully sick at intervals —
were varying mutual recriminations with the most
poignant abuse of the Babu, who seemed dis-
traught with terror. They demanded a plan of
action. He explained that they were very lucky
to be alive; that their coolies, if not then stalking
them, had passed beyond recall; that the Rajah,
his master, was ninety miles away, and, so far from
lending them money and a retinue for the Simla
journey, would surely cast them into prison if he
heard that they had hit a priest. He enlarged on
this sin and its consequences till they bade him
change the subject. Their one hope, said he, was
unostentatious flight from village to village till
they reached civilisation; and, for the hundredth
time dissolved in tears, he demanded of the high
stars why the Sahibs " had beaten holy man."
Ten steps would have taken Hurree into the
creaking gloom utterly beyond their reach — to
407
KIM
the shelter and food of the nearest village, where
glib-tongued doctors were scarce. But he pre-
ferred to endure cold, belly-pinch, bad words, and
occasional blows in the company of his honoured
employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he
sniffed dolefully.
"And have you thought," said the uninjured
man hotly, " what sort of spectacle we shall pre-
sent wandering through these hills among these
aborigines *? "
Hurree Babu had thought of little else for some
hours, but the remark was not to his address.
" We cannot wander ! I can hardly walk,"
groaned Kim's victim.
" Perhaps the holy man will be merciful in
loving-kindness, Sar, otherwise — "
" I promise myself a peculiar pleasure in empty-
ingjny revolver into that young bonze when next
we meet," was the unchristian answer.
" Revolvers ! Vengeance I Bonzes I " Hur-
ree crouched lower. The war was breaking out
afresh. " Have you no consideration for our loss ?
The baggage I The baggage I " He could hear
the speaker literally dancing on the grass.
" Everything we bore ! Everything we have
secured ! Our gains ! Eight months' work ! Do
you know what that means ? ' Decidedly it is
we who can deal with Orientals I ' Oh, you have
done well."
408
KIM
They fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree
smiled. Kim was with the kiltas, and in the kiltas
lay eight months of good diplomacy. There was
no means of communicating with the boy, but he
could be trusted. For the rest, he could so stage-
manage the journey through the hills that Hilas,
Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should
tell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot
control their own coolies are little respected in
the Hills, and the hillman has a very keen sense
of humour.
" If I had done it myself," thought Hurree, " it
would not have been better ; and, by Jove, now I
think of it, of course I arranged it myself How
quick I have been ! Just when I ran down hill I
thought it I Thee outrage was accidental, but onlee
me could have worked it — ah — for all it was dam
well worth. Consider the moral effect upon these
ignorant peoples I No treaties — no papers — no
written documents at all — and ?ne to interpret for
them. How I shall laugh with the Colonel I I
wish I had their papers also : but you cannot
occupy two places in space simultaneously. Thatt
is axiomatic."
409
XIV
My brother kneels (so saith Kabir)
To stone and brass in heathen-wise,
But in my brother's voice I hear
My own unanswered agonies.
His God is as his Fates assign —
His prayer is all the world's — and mine.
Kabir.
At moonrise the cautious coolies got under way.
The lama, refreshed by his sleep and the spirit,
needed no more than Kim's shoulder to bear him
along — a silent, swift-striding man. They held
the shale-sprinkled grass for an hour, swept round
the shoulder of an immortal cliff, and climbed into
a new country entirely blocked off from all sight
of Chini valley. A huge pasture-ground ran up
fan-shaped to the living snow. At its base was
perhaps half an acre of flat land, on which stood a
few soil and timber huts. Behind them — for, hill-
fashion, they were perched on the edge of all things
— the ground fell sheer two thousand feet to Sham-
legh midden, where never yet man has set foot.
The men made no motion to divide the plunder
410
KIM
till they had seen the lama bedded down in the
best room in the place, with Kim shampooing his
feet, Mohammedan fashion.
"We will send food," said the Ao-chung man,
"and the red-topped kilta. By dawn there will
be none to give evidence, one way or the other.
If anything is not needed in the kilta — see here I "
He pointed through the window — opening into
space that was filled with moonlight reflected
from the snow — and threw out an empty whisky-
bottle.
"No need to listen for the fall. This is the
world's end," he said, and swung off. The lama
looked forth, a hand on either sill, with eyes that
shone like yellow opals. From the enormous pit
before him white peaks lifted themselves yearning
to the moonlight. The rest was as the darkness
of interstellar space.
"These," he said slowly, '"are indeed my Hills.
Thus should a man abide, perched above the world,
separated from delights, considering vast matters."
"Yes; if he has a chela to prepare tea for him,
and to fold a blanket for his head, and to chase
out calving cows."
A smoky lamp burned in a niche, but the full
moonlight beat it down ; and by the mixed light,
stooping above the food-bag and cups, Kim moved
like a tall ghost.
"Ai! But now I have let the blood cool, my
411
KIM
head still beats and drums, and there is a cord
round the back of my neck."
" No wonder. It was a strong blow. May he
who dealt it — "
" But for my own passions there would have
been no evil."
"What evil? Thou hast saved the Sahibs from
death they deserved a hundred times."
" The lesson is not well learnt, chelae The
lama came to rest on a folded blanket, as Kim
went forward with his evening routine. " The
blow was but a shadow upon a shadow. Evil in
itself — my legs weary apace these latter daysl — it
met evil in me — anger, rage, and a lust to return
evil. These wrought in my blood, woke tumult
in my stomach, and dazzled my ears." Here he
drank scalding block-tea ceremonially, taking the
hot cup from Kim's hand. " Had I been passion-
less, the evil blow would have done only bodily
evil — a scar, or a bruise — which is illusion. But
my mind was not abstracted, for rushed in straight-
way a lust to let the Spiti men kill. In fighting
that lust, my soul was torn and wrenched beyond
a thousand blows. Not till I had repeated the
Blessings (he meant the Buddhist Beatitudes) did
I achieve calm. But the evil planted in me by
that moment's carelessness works out to its end.
Just is the Wheel, swerving not a hair I Learn
the lesson, chela''
412
KIM
"It is too high for me," Kim muttered. " I am
still all shaken, I am glad I hurt the man."
" I felt that sleeping upon thy knees, in the
wood below. It disquieted me in my dreams — the
evil in thy soul working through to mine. Yet on
the other hand" — he loosed his rosary — "I have
acquired merit by saving two lives — the lives of
those that wronged me. Now I must see into the
Cause of Things. The boat of my soul staggers."
" Sleep, and be strong. That is wisest."
" I meditate : there is a need greater than thou
knowest."
Till the dawn, hour after hour, as the moon-
light paled on the high peaks, and that which had
been belted blackness on the sides of the far hills
showed as tender green forest, the lama stared
fixedly at the wall. From time to time he groaned.
Outside the barred door, where discomfited kine
came to ask for their old stable, Shamlegh and the
coolies gave itself up to plunder and riotous living.
The Ao-chung man was their leader, and once they
had opened the Sahibs' tinned foods and found
that they were very good they dared not turn back.
Shamlegh kitchen-midden took the dunnage.
When Kim, after a night of bad dreams, stole
forth to brush his teeth in the morning chill, a fair-
coloured woman with turquoise-studded head-gear
drew him aside.
" The others have gone. They left thee this
413
KIM
kilta as the promise was. I do not love Sahibs,
but thou wilt make us a charm in return for it.
We do not wish little Shamlegh to get a bad name
on account of the — accident. I am the Woman
of Shamlegh." She looked him over with bold,
bright eyes, unlike the usual furtive glance of
hillwomen.
"Assuredly. But it must be done in secret."
She raised the heavy kilhi like a toy and slung it
into her own hut.
" Out and bar the door I Let none come near
till it is finished."
" But afterwards — we may talk ? "
Kim tilted the kiltu on the floor — a cascade of
Survey-instruments, books, diaries, letters, maps,
and queerly scented native correspondence. At
the very bottom was an embroidered bag covering
a sealed, gilded, and illuminated document such as
one King sends to another. Kim caught his breath
with delight, and reviewed the situation from a
Sahib's point of view.
" The books I do not want. Besides, they are
logarithms — Survey, I suppose." He laid them
aside. " The letters I do not understand, but
Colonel Creighton will. They must all be kept.
The maps — they draw better maps than me — of
course. All the native letters — oho I — and particu-
larly the vn/raslay He sniffed the embroidered
bag. " That must be from Hilas or Bunar, and
414
KIM
Hurree Babu spoke truth. By Jove! It is a fine
haul. I wish Hurree could know. . . . The rest
must go out of the window." He fingered a
superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a
theodohte. But after all, a Sahib cannot very
well steal, and the things might be inconvenient
evidence later. He sorted out every scrap of
manuscript, every map, and the native letters.
They made one softish slab. The three locked
ferril-backed books, with five worn pocket-books,
he put aside.
" The letters and the murasla I must carry inside
my coat and under my belt, and the hand-written
books I must put into the food-bag. It will be
very heavy. No, I do not think there is any-
thing more. If there is, the coolies have thrown
it down the khud^ so thatt is all right. Now you
go too." He repacked the kilta with all he meant
to lose, and hove it up on to the window-sill.
A thousand feet below lay a long, lazy, round-
shouldered bank of mist, as yet untouched by the
morning sun. A thousand feet below that was an
hundred-year-old pine-forest. He could see the
green tops looking like a bed of moss when a
wind-eddy thinned the cloud.
" No ! I don't think any one will go after
you ! "
The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it
dropped. The theodolite hit a jutting cliff-ledge
KIM
and exploded like a shell; the books, inkstands,
paint-boxes, compasses, and rulers showed for a
few seconds like a swarm of bees. Then they
vanished; and though Kim, hanging half out of
window, strained his young ears, never a sound
came up from the gulf
"Five hundred — a thousand rupees could not
buy them," he thought sorrowfully. " It was verree
wasteful, but I have all their other stuff — every-
thing they did — I hope. Now how the deuce
am I to tell Hurree Babu, and is:hatt the deuce
am I to do*? And my old man is sick. I
must tie up the letters in oilcloth. That is some-
thing to do first — else they will get all sweated.
. . . . And I am all alone I " He bound them
into a neat packet, swedging down the stiff,
sticky oilcloth at the corners, for his roving life
had made him as methodical as an old hunter in
matters of the road. Then with double care he
packed away the books at the bottom of the food-
bag.
The woman rapped at the door.
" But thou hast made no charm," she said, look-
ing about.
" There is no need." Kim had completely
overlooked the necessity for a little patter-talk.
The woman laughed at his confusion irreverently.
"None — for thee. Thou canst cast a spell by
the mere winking of an eye. But think of us poor
416
KIM
people when thou art gone ! They were all too
drunk last night to hear a woman. Thou art not
drunk?"
" I am a priest." Kim had recovered himself,
and, the woman being aught but unlovely, thought
best to stand on his office.
" I warned them that the Sahibs will be angry
and will make an inquisition and a report to the
Rajah. There is also the Babu with them. Clerks
have long tongues."
" Is that all thy trouble ? " The plan rose fully
formed in Kim's mind, and he smiled ravishingly.
*' Not all," quoth the woman, putting out a
hard brown hand all covered with turquoises set in
silver.
" I can finish that in a breath," he went on
quickly. " The Babu is the very hakim (thou hast
heard of him V) who was wandering among the
hills by Ziglaur. I know him."
" He will tell for the sake of a reward. Sahibs
cannot distinguish one hillman from another, but
Babus have eyes for men — and women."
" Carry a word to him from me."
" There is nothing I would not do for thee."
He accepted the compliment calmly, as men
must in lands where women make the love, tore a
leaf from a note-book, and with a patent indelible
pencil wrote in gross Shikast — the script that bad
little boys use when they write dirt on walls :
KIM
" / have everything that they have -written : their
pictures of the country^ and many letters. 'Espe-
cially the murasla. ^ell me -what to do. I am
at Sha?nlegh-under-the-Sno'-d: . T'he old man is sick."
" Take this to him. It will altogether shut his
mouth. He cannot have gone far."
" Indeed no. They are still in the forest across
the spur. Our children went to watch them when
the light came, and have cried the news as they
moved."
Kim looked his astonishment ; but from the edge
of the sheep-pasture floated a shrill, kite-like trill.
A child tending cattle had picked it up from a
brother or sister on the far side of the slope that
commanded Chini valley.
" My husbands are also out there gathering
wood." She drew a handful of walnuts from her
bosom, split one neatly, and began to eat, Kim
affected blank ignorance.
" Dost thou not know the meaning of the walnut
— priest '? " she said coyly, and handed him the
half-shells.
"Well thought of" He slipped the piece of
paper between them quickly. " Hast thou a little
wax to close them on this letter?"
The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.
" There is no payment till service has been ren-
dered. Carry this to the Babu, and say it was sent
by the Son of the Charm."
418
THE WOMAN OF SHAMLEGH
KIM
" / have everything that they have "xritten : the>r
pictures of the country, and many letters. Espe-
cially the murasla. T'ell me what to do. I am
at Shamlegh-under-the-Snow. T'he old man is sick."
" Take this to him. It will altogether shut his
mouth. He cannot have gone far."
" Indeed no. They are still in the forest across
the spur. Our children went to watch them when
the light came, and have cried the news as they
moved."
Kim looked his astonishment ; but from the edge
of the sheep-pasture floated a shrill, kite-like trill.
A child tending cattle had picked it up from a
brother or sister on the far side of the slope that
commanded Chini valley.
" My husbands are also out there gathering
wood." She drew a handful of walnuts from her
bosom, split one neatly, and began to eat. Kim
affected blank ignorance.
" Dost thou not know the meaning of the walnut
— priest *? " she said coyly, and handed him the
haU-shells.
"Well thought of" He slipped the piece of
paper between them quickly. "Hast thou a little
wax to close them on this letter?"
The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.
" There is no payment till service has been ren-
dered. Carry this to the Babu, and say it was sent
by the Son ot the tUharm.
418
KIM
"Ai! Truly I Truly! By a magician — who
is like a Sahib."
" Nay, Son of the Charm : and ask if there be
any answer."
" But if he offer a rudeness ? I — I am afraid."
Kim laughed. " He is, I have no doubt, very
tired and very hungry. The Hills make cold bed-
fellows. Hai, my " — it was on the tip of his
tongue to say Mother, but he turned it to Sister —
" thou art a wise and witty woman. By this time
all the villages know what has befallen the Sahibs
— eh?"
" True. News was at Ziglaur by midnight, and
by to-morrow should be at Kotgarh. The villages
are both afraid and angry."
"No need. Tell the villages to feed the Sa-
hibs and pass them on, in peace. We must get
them quietly away from our valleys. To steal
is one thing — to kill another. The Babu will
understand, and there will be no after-complaints.
Be swift. I must tend my master when he
wakes."
" So be it. After service — thou hast said ?
— comes the reward. I am the Woman of
Shamlegh, and I hold from the Rajah. I am no
common bearer of babes. Shamlegh is thine :
hoof and horn and hide, milk and butter. Take
or leave."
She turned resolutely up hill, her silver neck-
419
KIM
laces clicking on her broad breast, to meet the
morning sun fifteen hundred feet above them.
This time Kim thought in the vernacular as he
waxed down the oil-skin edges of the packets.
" How can a man follow the Way or the Great
Game when he is eternally pestered by women '?
There was that girl at Akrola by the Ford ; and
there was the scullion's wife behind the dovecot —
not counting the others — and now comes this one I
When I was a child it was well enough, but now I
am a man and they will not regard me as a man.
Walnuts indeed ! Ho ! ho I It is almonds in the
Plains ! "
He went out to levy on the village — not with
a begging-bowl, which might do for down-coun-
try, but in the manner of a prince. Shamlegh's
summer population is only three families — four
women and eight or nine men. They were all
full of tinned meats — and mixed drinks, from am-
moniated quinine to white vodka — for they had
taken their full share in the overnight loot. The
neat Continental tents had been cut up and shared
long ago, and there were patent aluminium sauce-
pans abroad.
But they considered the lama's presence a per-
fect safeguard against all consequences, and im-
penitently brought Kim of their best — even to a
drink of chang — the barley-beer that comes from
Ladakh-way. Then they thawed out in the sun,
420
KIM
and sat with their legs hanging over infinite
abysses, chattering, laughing, and smoking. They
judged India and its Government solely from their
experience of wandering Sahibs who had employed
them or their friends as shikcir?'is. Kim heard
tales of shots missed upon ibex, serow, or markhor,
by Sahibs twenty years in their graves — every
detail lighted from behind like twigs on tree-tops
seen against lightning. They told him of their
little diseases, and, more important, the diseases of
their tiny, sure-footed cattle ; of trips as far as Kot-
garh, where the strange missionaries live, and
beyond even to marvellous Simla, where the streets
are paved with silver, and any one, look you, can
get service with the Sahibs, who ride about in
two-wheeled carts and spend money with a
spade. Presently, grave and aloof, walking very
heavily, the lama joined himself to the chatter
under the eaves, and they gave him great room.
The thin air refreshed him, and he sat on the
edge of precipices with the best of them, and,
when talk languished, flung pebbles into the void.
Thirty miles away, as the eagle flies, lay the next
range, seamed and channelled and pitted with little
patches of brush — forests, each a day's dark march.
Behind the village, Shamlegh hill itself cut off" all
view to southward. It was like sitting in a swal-
low's nest under the eaves of the roof of the world.
From time to time the lama stretched out his
421
KIM
hand, and with a little, low-voiced prompting
would point oat the road to Spiti and north across
the Parungla.
" Beyond, where the hills lie thickest, lies De-
ch'en " (he meant Han-lc), " the great Monastery.
s'Tag-stan-ras-ch'en built it, and of him there runs
this tale." Whereupon he told it : a fantastic
piled narrative of bewitchment and miracles that
set Shamlegh agasping. Turning west a little, he
speered for the green hills of Kulu, and sought
Kailung under the glaciers. " For thither came I
in the old, old days. From Leh I came, over the
Baralachi."
" Yes, yes ; we know it," said the far-faring
people of Shamlegh.
" And I slept two nights with the priests of Kai-
lung. These are the Hills of my delight ! Shad-
ows blessed above all other shadows I There my
eyes opened on this world ; there my eyes were
opened to this world ; there I found Enlighten-
ment ; and there I girt my loins for my Search.
Out of the Hills I came — the high Hills and the
strong winds. Oh, just is the Wheel I " He
blessed them in detail — the great glaciers, the
naked rocks, the piled moraines and tumbled shale ;
dry upland, hidden salt-lake, age-old timber and
fruitful water-shot valley one after the other, as a
dying man blesses his folk, and Kim marvelled at
his passion.
422
KIM
" Yes — yes. There is no place like our Hills,"
said the people of Shamlegh. And they fell to
wondering how a man could live in the hot terrible
.Plains where the cattle run as big as elephants,
unfit to plough on a hillside ; where village
touches village, they had heard, for a hundred
miles; where folk went about stealing in gangs,
and what the robbers spared the Police carried
utterly away.
So the still forenoon wore through, and at the
end of it Kim's messenger dropped from the
steep pasture as unbreathed as when she had set
out.
" I sent a word to the hakhn" Kim explained,
while she made reverence.
"He joined himself to the idolaters? Nay, I
remember he did a healing upon one of them.
He has acquired merit, though the healed em-
ployed his strength for evil. Just is the Wheel !
What of the hakim ? "
" I feared that thou hadst been bruised and —
and I knew he was wise." Kim took the waxed
walnut-shell and read in English on the back of
his note: ''''Tour favour received. Cannot get aiv ay
from -present company at present^ hut shall take the?n
into SifJila. After which^ hope to rejoin you. Inexpe-
dient to follow angry gentlemen. Return by sa?ne road
you came^ and will overtake. Highly gratified about
correspondence due to my forethought." " He says,
423
KIM
Holy One, that he will escape from the idolaters,
and will return to us. Shall we wait awhile at
Shamlegh, then ? "
The lama looked long and lovingly upon the
Hills, and shook his head.
" That may not be, chela. From my bones out-
ward I do desire it, but it is forbidden. I have
seen the Cause of Things."
" Why? When the Hills gave thee back thy
strength day by day *? Remember we were weak
and fainting down below there in the Doon."
" I became strong to do evil and to forget. A
brawler and a swashbuckler upon the hillsides was
I." Kim bit back a smile. " Just and perfect is
the Wheel, swerving not a hair. When I was a
man — a long time ago — I did pilgrimage to
Guru Ch'wan among the poplars" (he pointed
Bhotanwards), "where they keep the Sacred
Horse."
" Quiet, be quiet I " said Shamlegh, all arow.
" He speaks of Jam-lin-nin-k'or, the Horse That
Can Go Round The World In a Day."
" I speak to my chela only," said the lama, in
gentle reproof, and they scattered like frost on
south eaves of a morning. " I did not seek truth
in those days, but the talk of doctrine. All illu-
sion ! I drank the beer and ate the bread of Guru
Ch'wan. Next day one said : ' We go out to fight
Sangor Gutok down the valley to discover (mark
424
KIM
again how Lust is tied to Anger !) which abbot
shall bear rule in the valley, and take the profit of
the prayers they print at Sangor Gutok.' I went,
and we fought a day,"
" But how, Holy One ? "
" With our long pencases as I could have shown.
... I say, we fought under the poplars, both abbots
and all the monks, and one laid open my forehead
to the bone. See ! " He tilted back his cap and
showed a puckered silvery scar. " Just and perfect
is the Wheel ! Yesterday the scar itched, and
after fifty years I recalled how it was dealt and
the face of him who dealt it ; dwelling a little in
illusion. Followed that which thou didst see —
strife and stupidity. Just is the Wheel! The
idolater's blow fell upon the scar. Then I was
shaken in my soul : my soul was darkened, and the
boat of my soul rocked upon the waters of illusion.
Not till I came to Shamlegh could I meditate upon
the Cause of Things, or trace the running grass-
roots of Evil. I strove all the long night."
"But, Holy One, thou art innocent of all evil.
May I be thy sacrifice ! "
Kim was genuinely distressed at the old man's
sorrow, and Mahbub All's phrase slipped out un-
awares.
"In the dawn," he went on more gravely, ready
rosary clicking between the slow sentences, "came
enlightenment. It is here. ... I am an old
KIM
man . . . hill-bred, hill-fed, never to sit down
among my Hills. Three years I travelled through
Hind, but — can earth be stronger than Mother
Earth? My stupid body yearned to the Hills and
the snow of the Hills, from below there. I said,
and it is true, my Search is sure. So, at the Kulu
woman's house I turned hillward, over-persuaded
by myself There is no blame to the hahini. He —
following Desire — foretold that the Hills would
make me strong. They strengthened me to do
evil, to forget my Search. I delighted in life and
the lust of life. I desired strong slopes to climb.
I cast about to find them. I measured the strength
of my body, which is evil, against the high Hills.
I made a mock of thee when thy breath came
short under Jamnotri. I jested when thou wouldst
not face the snow of the pass."
"But what harm? I was afraid. It was just.
I am not a hillman ; and I loved thee for thy new
strength."
" More than once I remember," he rested his
cheek dolefully on his hand, " I sought thy praise
and the hakim's for the mere strength of my legs.
Thus evil followed evil till the cup was full. Just
is the Wheel I All Hind for three years did me
all honour. From the Fountain of Wisdom in
the Wonder House to" — he smiled — "a little
child playing by a big gun — the world prepared
my road. And why *? "
426
KIM
" Because we loved thee. It is only the fever
of the blow. I myself am still sick and shaken."
" No ! It was because I was upon the Way —
tuned as are si-nen (cymbals) to the purpose of
the Law. I departed from that ordinance. The
tune was broken : followed the punishment. In
my own Hills, on the edge of my own country, in
the very place of my evil desire, comes the buffet
— here ! " (He touched his brow.) "As a novice
is beaten when he misplaces the cups, so am I
beaten, who was Abbot of Such-zen. No word,
look you, but a blow, chela"
"But the Sahibs did not know thee, Holy One?"
"We were well matched. Ignorance and Lust
met Ignorance and Lust upon the road, and they
begat Anger. The blow was a sign to me, who
am no better than a strayed yak, that my place is
not here. Who can read the Cause of an act is
half-way to Freedom ! ' Back to the path,' says
the Blow. ' The Hills are not tor thee. Thou
canst not choose Freedom and go in bondage to
the delight of life.'"
" If we had never met that thrice-cursed
Russian ! "
"Our Lord Himself cannot make the Wheel
swing backward. And for my merit that I had
acquired I gain yet another sign." He put his
hand in his bosom, and drew forth the Wheel
of Life. "Look I I considered this after I had
427
KIM
meditated. There remains untorn by the idolater
no more than the breadth of my finger-nail."
"I see."
"So much, then, is the span of my life in this
body. I have served the Wheel all my days.
Now the Wheel serves me. But for the merit I
have acquired in guiding thee upon the Way,
there would have been added to me yet another
life ere I had found my River. Is it plain, chela?"
Kim stared at the brutally disfigured chart.
From left to right diagonally the rent ran — from
the Eleventh House where Desire gives birth to
the Child (as it is drawn by Tibetans) — across the
human and animal worlds, to the Fifth House —
the empty House of the Senses. The logic was
unanswerable.
" Before our Lord won enlightenment," the lama
folded all away with reverence, " He was tempted.
I too have been tempted, but it is finished. The
Arrow fell in the Plains — not in the Hills. There-
fore, what make we here *? "
"Shall we at least wait for the Jxikhn?"
" I know how long I live in this body. What
can a hakim do ? "
" But thou art all sick and shaken. Thou canst
not walk."
" How can I be sick if I see Freedom ? " He
rose unsteadily to his feet.
" Then I must get food from the village. Oh,
428
KIM
the weary Road!" Kim felt that he too needed
rest.
" That is lawful. Let us eat and go. The
Arrow fell in the Plains . . . but I yielded to
Desire. Make ready, chcLi."
Kim turned to the woman with the turquoise
head-gear, who had been idly pitching pebbles over
the cliff. She smiled very kindly.
" I found him like a strayed buffalo in a corn-
field— the Babu; snorting and sneezing with cold.
He was so hungry that he forgot his dignity and
gave me sweet words. The Sahibs have nothing."
She flung out an empty palm. " One is very sick
about the stomach. Thy work ? "
Kim nodded, with a bright eye.
" I spoke to the Bengali first — and to the peo-
ple of a near-by village after. The Sahibs will be
given food as they need it — nor will the people
ask money. The plunder is already distributed.
That Babu makes lying speeches to the Sahibs.
Why does he not leave them ^ "
" Out of the greatness of his heart."
"Was never a Bengali yet had one bigger than
a dried walnut. But it is no matter. . . . Now as
to walnuts. After service comes reward. I have
said the village is thine."
" It is my loss," Kim began. " Even now I had
planned desirable things in my heart which " —
there is no need to go through the compliments
429
KIM
proper to these occasions. He sighed deeply. . . .
" But my master, led by a vision — "
" Huh I What can old eyes see except a full
begging-bowl *? "
" — turns from this village to the Plains
again."
" Bid him stay."
Kim shook his head. " I know my Holy
One, and his rage if he be crossed," he replied im-
pressively. " His curses shake the Hills."
" Pity they did not save him from a broken
head ! I heard that thou wast the tiger-hearted
one who smote the Sahib. Let him dream a
little longer. Stay 1 "
" Hillwoman," said Kim, with austerity that
could not harden the outlines of his young oval
face, " these matters are too high for thee."
" The Gods be good to us I Since when
have men and women been other than men and
women *? "
" A priest is a priest. He says he will go upon
this hour. I am his chela, and I go with him.
We need food for the Road. He is an honoured
guest in all the villages, but " — he broke into a
pure boy's grin — "the food here is good. Give
me some."
"What if I do not give it thee? I am the
woman of this village."
"Then I curse thee — a little — not greatly,
430
KIM
but enough to remember." He could not help
smiHng.
"Thou hast cursed me already by the down-
dropped eyelash and the uplifted chin. Curses'?
What should I care for mere words *? " She
clenched her hands upon her bosom. ..." But I
would not have thee to go in anger, thinking hardly
of me — a gatherer of cow-dung and grass at
Shamlegh, but still a woman of substance."
" I think nothing," said Kim, " but that I am
grieved to go, for I am very tired, and that we
need food. Here is the bag."
The woman snatched it angrily. " I was fool-
ish," said she. " Who is thy woman in the Plains '?
Fair or black? I was fair once. Laughest thou?
Once, long ago, if thou canst believe, a Sahib
looked on me with favour. Once, long ago, I
wore European clothes at the Mission-house yon-
der." She pointed towards Kotgarh. " Once, long
ago, I was Ker-Us-ti-an and spoke English — as the
Sahibs speak it. Yes. My Sahib said he would
return and wed me — yes, wed me. He went
away — I had nursed him when he was sick — but
he never returned. Then I saw that the Gods of
the Kerlistians lied, and I went back to my own
people. ... I have never set eyes on a Sahib since.
(Do not laugh at me. The fit is past, little priest-
ling.) Thy face and thy walk and thy fashion of
speech put me in mind of my Sahib, though thou
KIM
art only a wandering mendicant to whom I give a
dole. Curse me '? Thou canst neither curse nor
bless I " She set her hands on her hips and laughed
bitterly. " Thy Gods are lies ; thy works are lies ;
thy words are lies. There are no Gods under all
the heavens. I know it. . . . But for awhile I
thought it was my Sahib come back, and he was my
God. Yes, once I made music on a pianno in the
Mission-house at Kotgarh. Now I give alms to
priests who are heatthen'' She wound up with the
English word, and tied the mouth of the brimming
bag.
" I wait for thee, chela" said the lama, leaning
against the door-post.
The woman swept the tall figure with her eyes.
" He walk ! He cannot cover half a mile. Whither
would old bones go ? "
At this Kim, already perplexed by the lama's
collapse and foreseeing the weight of the bag, fairly
lost his temper.
" What is it to thee, woman of ill-omen, where
he goes '? "
"Nothing — but something to thee, priest with
a Sahib's face. Wilt thou carry him on thy shoul-
ders ? "
" I go to the Plains. None must hinder my
return. I have wrestled with my soul till I am
strengthless. The stupid body is spent, and we
are far from the Plains."
432
KIM
"Behold!" she said simply, and drew aside to
let Kim see his own utter helplessness. "Curse me.
Maybe it will give him strength. Make a charm!
Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest." She
turned away.
The lama had squatted limply, still holding by
the door-post. One cannot strike down an old
man that he recovers again like a boy in a night.
Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes
that hung on Kim were alive and imploring.
"It is all well," said Kim. "It is the thin air
that weakens thee. In a little while we go ! It is
the mountain-sickness. I too am a little sick at
stomach," . . . and he knelt and comforted with
such poor words as came first to his lips. Then
the woman returned, more erect than ever.
" Thy Gods useless, heh ? Try mine. / am the
Woman of Shamlegh." She hailed hoarsely, and
there came out of a cow-pen her two husbands and
three others with a dooli^ the rude native litter of
the Hills, that they use for carrying the sick and for
visits of state. " These cattle," she did not conde-
scend to look at them, "are thine for so long as thou
shalt need."
" But we will not go Simla-way. We will not go
near the Sahibs," cried the first husband.
" They will not run away as the others did, nor
will they steal baggage. Two I know for weak-
lings. Stand to the rear-pole, Sonoo and Taree."
433
KLM
They obeyed swiftly. " Lower now, and lift in that
holy man, I will see to the village and your vir-
tuous wives till ye return."
" When will that be ? "
" Ask the priests. Do not pester me. Lay the
food-bag at the foot, it balances better so."
" Oh, Holy One, thy Hills are kinder than our
Plains ! " cried Kim, relieved, as the lama tottered
to the litter. " It is a very king's bed — a place
of honour and ease. And we owe it to — "
" A woman of ill-omen. I need thy blessings
as much as I do thy curses. It is my order and
none of thine. Lift and away I Here I Hast thou
money for the road ? "
She beckoned Kim to her hut, and stooped
above a battered English cash-box under her cot.
" I do not need anything," said Kim, angered
where he should have been grateful. " I am al-
ready rudely loaded with favours."
She looked up with a curious smile and laid a
hand on his shoulder. " At least, thank me. I
am foul-faced and a hillwoman, but, as thy talk
goes, I have acquired merit. Shall I show thee
how the Sahibs render thanks ? " and her hard eyes
softened.
" I am but a wandering priest," said Kim, his
eyes lighting in answer. " Thou needest neither
my blessings nor my curses."
" Nay. But for one little moment — thou
434
KIM
canst overtake the douli in ten strides — if thou
wast a Sahib, shall I show thee what thou wouldst
do?"
" How if I guess, though % " said Kim, and put-
ting his arm round her waist, he kissed her on the
cheek, adding in English : " Thank you verree
much, my dear."
Kissing is practically unknown among Asiatics,
which may have been the reason that she leaned
back with wide-open eyes and a face of panic.
" Next time," Kim went on, " you must not
be so sure of your heathen priests. Now I say
good-bye." He held out his hand English-fash-
ion. She took it mechanically. " Good-bye, my
dear."
" Good-bye, and — and " — she was remember-
ing her English words one by one — " you will
come back again ? Good-bye, and — thee God
bless you."
Half an hour later, as the creaking litter jolted
up the hill path that leads south-easterly from
Shamlegh, Kim saw a tiny figure at the hut door
waving a white rag.
"She has acquired merit beyond all others,"
said the lama. " For to set a man upon the way
to Freedom is half as great as though she had her-
self found it."
" Umm," said Kim thoughtfully, considering
the past. " It may be that I have acquired merit
435
KIM
also. ... At least she did not treat me like a
child." He hitched the front of his robe, where
lay the slab of documents and maps, restowed the
precious food-bag at the lama's feet, laid his hand
on the litter edge, and buckled down to the slow
pace of the grunting husbands.
" These also acquire merit," said the lama, after
three miles.
" More than that, they shall be paid in silver,"
quoth Kim. The Woman of Shamlegh had
given it to him ; and it was only fair, he argued,
that her men should earn it back again.
436
XV
I'd not give room for an Emperor —
I'd hold my road for a King.
To the Triple Crown I'd not bow down —
But this is a different thing!
/'//not fight with the Powers of Air —
Sentries pass him through!
Drawbridge let fall — He's the Lord of us all —
The Dreamer whose dream came true!
The Siege of the Fairies.
Two hundred miles north of Chini, on the blue
shale of Ladakh, lies Yankling Sahib, the merry-
minded man, spy-glassing wrathfully across the
ridges for some sign of his pet tracker — a man
from Ao-chung, But that renegade, with a new
Miinnlicher rifle and two hundred cartridges, is
elsewhere, shooting musk-deer for the market, and
Yankling Sahib will learn next season how very ill
he has been.
Up the valleys of Bushahr — the far-beholding
eagles of the Himalayas swerve at his new blue
and white gored umbrella — hurries a Bengali,
once fat and well-looking, now lean and weather-
437
KIM
worn. He has received the thanks of two for-
eigners of distinction, piloted not unskilfully to
Mashobra tunnel, which leads to the great and gay
capital of India. It was not his fault that, blan-
keted by wet mists, he conveyed them past the
telegraph-station and European colony of Kotgarh,
It was not his fault, but that of the Gods, of whom
he discoursed so engagingly, that he led them into
the borders of Nahan, where the Rajah of that
State mistook them for deserting British soldiery.
Hurree Babu explained the greatness and glory,
in their own country, of his companions, till the
drowsy kinglet smiled. He explained it to every^
one who asked — many times — aloud — variously.
He begged food, arranged accommodation, proved
a skilful leech for an injury of the groin — such a
blow as one may receive rolling down a rock-cov-
ered hillside in the dark — and in all things indis-
pensable. The reason of his friendliness did
him credit. With millions of fellow-serfs, he
had learned to look upon Russia as the great
deliverer from the North. He was a fearful man.
He had been afraid that he could not save his
illustrious employers from the anger of an excited
peasantry. He himself would just as lief hit a
holy man as not, but . . . He was deeply grate-
ful and sincerely rejoiced that he had done his "little
possible" towards bringing their venture to — bar-
ring the lost baggage — a successful issue. He
438
KIM
had forgotten the blows ; denied that any blows
had been dealt that unseemly first night under the
pines. He asked neither pension nor retaining
fee, but, if they deemed him worthy, would they
write him a testimonial ? It might be useful to
him later, if others, their friends, came over the
Passes. He begged them to remember him in
their future greatnesses, for he " opined subtly "
that he, even he, Mohendro Lai Dutt, M.A. of
Calcutta, had " done the State some service."
They gave him a certificate praising his cour-
tesy, helpfulness, and unerring skill as a guide.
He put it in his waist-belt and sobbed with emo-
tion; they had endured so many dangers together.
He led them at high noon along crowded Simla
Mall to the Alliance Bank of Simla, where they
wished to establish their identity. Thence he
vanished like a dawn-cloud on Jakko.
Behold him, too fine-drawn to sweat, too pressed
to vaunt the drugs in his little brass-bound box,
ascending Shamlegh slope, a just man made per-
fect. Watch him, all Babudom laid aside, smoking
at noon on a cot, while a woman with turquoise-
studded head-gear points south-easterly across the
bare grass. Litters, she says, do not travel as fast
as single men, but his birds should now be in the
Plains. The holy man would not stay though
Lispeth pressed him. The Babu groans heavily,
girds up his huge loins, and is off again. He does
439
KIM
not care to travel after dusk ; but his days' marches
— there is none to enter them in a book — would
astonish folk who mock at his race. Kindly villa-
gers, remembering the Dacca drug-vendor of two
months ago, give him shelter against evil spirits of
the wood. He dreams of Bengali Gods, Univer-
sity text-books of education, and the Royal So-
ciety, London, England. Next dawn the bobbing
blue and white umbrella goes forward.
On the edge of the Doon, Mussoorie well behind
them and the Plains spread out in golden dust be-
fore, rests a worn litter in which — all the Hills
know It — lies a sick lama who seeks a River for
his healing. Villages have almost come to blows
over the honour of bearing it, for not only has the
lama given them blessings, but his disciple good
money — full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve
miles a day has the dooli travelled, as the greasy,
rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few Sa-
hibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm, when
the driven snow-dust filled every fold of the im-
passive lama's drapery ; between the black horns of
Raieng, where they heard the whistle of the wild
goats through the clouds ; pitching and strained on
the shale below ; hard-held between shoulder and
clenched jaw when they rounded the hideous
curves of the Cut Road under Bhagirati; swinging
and creaking to the steady jog-trot of the descent
into the Valley of the Waters ; pressed along the
440
KIM
steamy levels of that locked valley ; up, up and out
again, to meet the roaring gusts off Kedarnath ; set
down of mid-days in the dun-gloom of kindly oak-
forests; passed from village to village in dawn-chill,
when even devotees may be forgiven for swelling
at impatient holy men; or by torch-light, when the
least fearful think of ghosts — the dooli has reached
her last stage. The little hill-folk sweat in the
modified heat of the lower Sewaliks, and gather
round the priests for their blessing and their
wage.
"Ye have acquired merit," says the lama.
" Merit greater than your knowing. And ye will
return to the Hills," he sighs.
" Surely. The high Hills as soon as may be."
The bearer rubs his shoulder, drinks water, spits
it out again, and readjusts his grass sandal. Kim
— his face is drawn and tired — pays very small
silver from his belt, heaves out the food-bag,
crams an oil-skin packet — they are holy writ-
ings — into his bosom, and helps the lama to his
feet. The peace has come again into the old
man's eyes, and he does not look for the hills
to fall down and crush him as he did that terrible
night when they were delayed by the flooded river.
The men pick up the dooU and swing out of
sight between the scrub clumps.
The lama raises a hand towards the rampart of
the Himalayas. " Not with you, O blessed among
441
KIM
all hills, fell the Arrow of Our Lord I And never
shall I breathe your air again I "
" But thou art ten times the stronger man in this
good air," says Kim, for to his wearied soul appeal
the well-cropped, kindly plains. " Here, or here-
abouts, fell the Arrow, yes. We will go very
softly, perhaps a kos a day, for the Search is sure.
But the bag weighs heavy."
"Ay, our Search is sure. I have come out of
great temptation."
It was never more than a couple of miles a day
now, and Kim's shoulders bore all the weight of it
— the burden of an old man, the burden of the
heavy food-bag with the locked books, the load of
the writings on his heart, and the details of the
daily routine. He begged in the dawn, set blankets
for the lama's meditation, held the weary head on
his lap through the noonday heats, fanning away
the flies till his wrist ached, begged again in the
evenings, and rubbed the lama's feet, who re-
warded him with promise of Freedom — to-day,
to-morrow, or, at furthest, the next day.
" Never was such a chela. I doubt at times
whether Ananda more faithfully nursed Our Lord.
And thou art a Sahib ? When I was a man — a
long time ago — I forgot that. Now I look upon
thee often, and every time I remember that thou
art a Sahib. It is strange."
442
KIM
" Thou hast said there is neither black nor white.
Why plague me with this talk, Holy One *? Let
me rub the other foot. It vexes me. I am not a
Sahib. I am thy chela, and my head is heavy on
my shoulders."
" Patience a little ! We reach Freedom to-
gether. Then thou and I, upon the far bank of
the River, will look back upon our lives as in the
Hills we saw our day's marches laid out behind us.
Perhaps I was once a Sahib."
" 'Was never a Sahib like thee, I swear it."
" I am certain the Keeper of the Images in the
Wonder House was in past life a very wise abbot.
But even his spectacles do not make my eyes see.
There fall shadows when I would look steadily.
No matter — we know the tricks of the poor
stupid carcass — shadow changing to another
shadow. I am bound by the illusion of Time
and Space. How far came we to-day in the
flesh ? "
" Perhaps half a kosT Three quarters of a mile,
and it was a weary march.
" Half a kos. Ha ! I went ten thousand
thousand in the spirit. How we are all lapped
and swathed and swaddled in these senseless
things." He looked at his thin blue-veined hand
that found the beads so heavy. '-'Chela, hast thou
never a wish to leave me '? "
Kim thought of the oil-skin packet and the books
443
KIM
in the food-bag. If some one duly authorised would
only take delivery of them the Great Game might
play itself for aught he then cared. He was tired
and hot in his head, and a cough that came from
the stomach worried him.
" No," he said almost sternly. " I am not a dog
or a snake to bite when I have learned to love."
" Thou art too tender for me."
" Not that either. I have moved in one matter
without consulting thee. I have sent a message
to the Kulu woman by that woman who gave us
the goat's milk this morn, saying that thou wast
a little feeble and would need a litter. I beat
myself in my mind that I did not do it when we
entered the Doon. We stay in this place till the
litter returns."
" I am content. She is a woman with a heart
of gold, as thou sayest, but a talker — something
of a talker."
" She will not weary thee. I have looked to
that also. Holy One, my heart is very heavy for
my many carelessnesses towards thee." An hysteri-
cal catch rose in his throat. " I have walked thee
too far; I have not picked good food always for
thee; I have not considered the heat; I have talked
to people on the road and left thee alone. ... I
have — I have . . . Hai mail But I love thee
. . . and it is all too late. ... I was a child. . . .
Oh why was I not a man I . . ." Overborne by
444
KIM
strain, fatigue, and the weight beyond his years,
Kim broke down and sobbed at the lama's feet.
" What a to-do is here," said the old man gently.
"Thou hast never stepped a hair's breadth from the
Way of Obedience. Neglect me? Child, I have
lived on thy strength as an old tree lives on the
lime of a new wall. Day by day, since Shamlegh
down, I have stolen strength from thee. T^herefore,
not through any sin of thine, art thou weakened.
It is the Body — the silly, stupid Body — that speaks
now. Not the assured Soul. Be comforted I Know
at least the devils that thou fightest. They are
earth-born — children of illusion. We will go to
the woman from Kulu. She shall acquire merit in
housing us, and specially in tending me. Thou
shalt run free till strength returns. I had forgotten
the stupid Body. If there be any blame, I bear it.
But we are too close to the gates of deliverance to
weigh blame. I could praise thee, but what need?
In a little — in a very little — we shall sit beyond
all needs."
And so he petted and comforted Kim with wise
saws and grave texts on that little understood
beast, our Body, who, being but a delusion, insists
on posing as the Soul, to the darkening of the
Way, and the immense multiplication of unneces-
sary devils.
" Hai I hai I Let us talk of the woman from
Kulu. Think you she will ask another charm for
445
KIM
her grandsons ? When I was a young man, a
very long time ago, I was plagued with these
vapours, and some others, and I went to an abbot
— a very holy man and a seeker after truth, though
then I knew it not. Sit up and listen, child of my
soul I My tale was told. Said he to me, ' Chela,
know this. There are many lies in the world, and
not a few liars, but there are no liars like our bodies,
except it be the sensations of our bodies.' Con-
sidering this I was comforted, and of his great
favour he suffered me to drink tea in his presence.
Suffer me now to drink tea, for I am thirsty."
With a laugh above his tears, Kim kissed the
lama's feet, and went about tea-making.
" Thou leanest on me in the body. Holy One,
but I lean on thee for some other things. Dost
know it?"
'' I have guessed maybe," and the lama's eyes
twinkled. "We must change that."
So, when with scufflings and scrapings and a
hot air of importance, paddled up nothing less
than the Sahiba's pet palanquin sent twenty miles,
with that same grizzled old Oorya servant in
charge, and when they reached the disorderly
order of the long white rambling house behind
Saharunpore, the lama took his own measures.
Said the Sahiba cheerily from an upper window,
after compliments: "What is the good of an old
woman's advice to an old man*? I told thee — I
446
KIM
told thee, Holy One, to keep an eye upon the
chela. How didst thou do it? Never answer mcl
/ know. He has been running among the women.
Look at his eyes — hollow and sunk — and the
Betraying Line from the nose down I He has
been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!"
Kim looked up over-weary to smile, shaking his
head in denial.
" Do not jest," said the lama. " That time is
done. We are here upon great matters. A sick-
ness of soul took me in the Hills, and him a
sickness of the body. Since then I have lived
upon his strength — eating him."
"Children together — young and old," she sniffed,
but forbore to make any new jokes. " May this
present hospitality restore ye. Hold awhile and I
will come to gossip of the high good Hills."
At evening time — her son-in-law was returned,
so she did not need to go on inspection round the
farm — she won to the meat of the matter, explained
low-voicedly by the lama. The two old heads
nodded wisely together. Kim had reeled to a
room with a cot in it, and was dozing soddenly.
The lama had forbidden him to set blankets or
get food.
" I know — I know. Who but I?" she cackled.
" We who go down to the burning-ghats clutch
at the hands of those coming up from the River
of Life with full water-jars — yes, brimming water-
447
KIM
jars. I did the boy wrong. He lent thee his
strength ? It is true that the old eat the young
daily. 'Stands now we must restore him."
" Thou hast many times acquired merit — "
"My merit. What is it ? Old bag of bones
making curries for men who do not ask ' Who
cooked this?' Now if it were stored up for my
grandson — "
" He that had the belly-pain *? "
" To think the Holy One remembers that I I
must tell his mother. It is most singular honour I
'He that had the belly-pain' — straightway the
Holy One remembered. She will be proud."
" My chela is to me as is a son to the unen-
lightened."
" Say grandson, rather. Mothers have not the
wisdom of our years. If a child cries they say the
heavens are falling. Now a grandmother is far
enough separated from the pain of bearing and the
pleasure of giving the breast to consider whether a
cry is wickedness pure or the wind. And since
thou speakest once again of wind, when last the
Holy One was here, maybe I offended in pressing
for charms."
" Sister," said the lama, using that form of
address a Buddhist monk may sometimes employ
towards a nun, " if charms comfort thee — "
" They are better than ten thousand doctors."
" I say, if they comfort thee, I, who was Abbot
448
KIM
of Such-zen, will make as many as thou mayest
desire. I have never seen thy face — "
" 'T'hat even the monkeys who steal our loquats
count for a gain. Hee I hee I "
"But as he who sleeps there said," he nodded at
the shut door of the guest-chamber across the
forecourt, " thou hast a heart of gold. . . .
And he is in the spirit my very ' grandson ' to me."
" Good I I am the Holy One's cow." This was
pure Hinduism, but the lama never heeded. "I
am old. I have borne sons in the body. Oh once
I could please men! Now I can cure them."
He heard her armlets tinkle as though she bared
arms for action. " I will take over the boy and
dose him, and stuff him, and make him all whole.
Hai ! hai I We old people know something yet."
Wherefore when Kim, aching in every bone,
opened his eyes, and would go to the cook-house
to get his master's food, he found strong coercion
about him, and a veiled old figure at the door,
flanked by the grizzled manservant, who told him
precisely the very things that he was on no account
to do.
"Thou must have — thou shalt have nothing.
What^ A locked box in which to keep holy
books ? Oh, that is another matter. Heavens
forbid I should come between a priest and his
prayers I It shall be brought, and thou shalt keep
the key."
449
KIM
They pushed the coffer under his cot, and Kim
shut away Mahbub's pistol, the oil-skin packet of
letters, and the locked books and diaries, with
a groan of relief. For some absurd reason their
weight on his shoulders was nothing to their
weight on his poor mind. His neck ached under
it of nights.
" Thine is a sickness uncommon in youth these
days : since young folk have given up tending
their betters. The remedy is sleep, and certain
drugs," said the Sahiba ; and he was glad to give
himself up to the blankness that half menaced and
half soothed him.
She brewed drinks, in some mysterious Asiatic
equivalent to the still-room — drenches that smelt
pestilently and tasted worse. She stood over Kim
till they went down, and inquired exhaustively
after they had come up. She laid a taboo upon
the forecourt, and enforced it by means of an
armed man. It is true he was seventy odd, that
his scabbarded sword ceased at the hilt; but he
represented the authority of the Sahiba, and loaded
wains, chattering servants, calves, dogs, hens, and
the like, fetched a wide compass by those parts.
Best of all, when the body was cleared, she cut
out from the mass of poor relations that crowded
the back of the buildings — household dogs, we
name them — a cousin's widow, skilled in what
Europeans, who know nothing about it, call mas-
450
KIM
sage. And the two of them, laying him east and
west, that the mysterious earth-currents which
thrill the clay of our bodies might help and not
hinder, took him to pieces all one long afternoon
— bone by bone, muscle by muscle, ligament by
ligament, and lastly, nerve by nerve. Kneaded
to irresponsible pulp, half hypnotised by the
perpetual flick and readjustment of the uneasy
chudders that veiled their eyes, Kim slid ten
thousand miles into slumber — thirty-six hours of
it — sleep that soaked like rain after drought.
Then she fed him, and the house spun to her
clamour. She caused fowls to be slain ; she sent
for vegetables, and the sober, slow-thinking gar-
dener, nigh as old as she, sweated for it; she took
spices, and milk, and onion, with little fish from
the brooks — anon limes for sherbets, quails of the
pit, then chicken-livers upon a skewer, with sliced
ginger between.
" I have seen something of this world," she said
over the crowded trays, "and there are but two
sorts of women in it — those who take the strength
out of a man and those who put it back. Once I
was that one, and now I am this. Nay — do not
play the priestling with me. Mine was but a jest.
If it does not hold good now, it will when thou
takest the road again. Cousin " — this to the poor
relation, never wearied of extolling her patroness's
charity — "he is getting a bloom on the skin of a
451
KIM
new-curried horse. Our work is like polishing
jewels to be thrown to a dance-girl — eh ? "
Kim sat up and smiled. The terrible weak-
ness had dropped from him like an old shoe.
His tongue itched for free speech again, and
but a week back the lightest word clogged it
like ashes. The pain in his neck (he must
have caught it from the lama) had gone with the
heavy dengue-aches and the evil taste in the
mouth. The two old women, a little, but not
much more careful about their veils now, clucked
as merrily as the hens that had entered picking
through the open door.
" Where is my Holy One ? " he demanded.
"Hear him! Thy Holy One is well," she
snapped viciously. " Though that is none of his
merit. Knew I a charm to make him wise, I'd
sell my jewels and buy it. To refuse good food
that I cooked myself — and go roving into the
fields for two nights on an empty belly — and to
tumble into a brook at the end of it — call you
that holiness ? Then, when he has nearly broken
what thou hast left of my heart with anxiety he
tells me that he has acquired merit. Oh, how like
are all men I No, that was not it — he tells me
that he is freed from all sin. / could have told
him that before he wetted himself all over. He is
well now — this happened a week ago — but burn
me such holiness I A babe of three would do
KIM
better. Do not fret thyself for the Holy One,
He keeps both eyes on thee when he is not wading
our brooks."
" I do not remember to have seen him. I re-
member that the days and nights passed like bars
of white and black, opening and shutting. I was
not sick : I was only tired."
" A lethargy that comes by right some few score
years later. But it is all done now."
" Maharanee," Kim began, but led by the look
in her eye, changed it to the title of plain love —
" Mother, I owe my life to thee. How shall I
make thanks *? Ten thousand blessings upon thy
house and — "
" The house be unblessed." (It is impossible to
give exactly the old lady's word.) " Thank the
Gods as a priest if thou wilt, but thank me if
thou carest as a son. Heavens above ! Have I
shifted thee and lifted thee and slapped and
twisted thy ten toes to find texts flung at my
head"? Somewhere a mother must have borne
thee to break her heart. What used thou to her
— son ? "
" I had no mother, my mother," said Kim.
" She died, they tell me, when I was young."
'-'' Hai 7na?' ! Then none can say I have robbed
her of any right if — when thou takest the road
again and this house is but one of a thousand used
for shelter and forgotten, after an easy-flung bless-
453
KIM
ing. No matter. I need no blessings, but —
but — " She stamped her foot at the poor rela-
tion: "Take up the trays to the house. What is
the good of stale food in the room, oh woman of
ill-omen ? "
" I ha — have borne a son in my time too, but
he died," whimpered the bowed sister-figure be-
hind the chvddcr. " Thou knowest he died I I
only waited for the order to take away the tray."
*' It is I that am the woman of ill-omen," cried
the old lady penitently. "We that go down to
the chattris (the big umbrellas above the burning-
ghats where the priests take their last dues) clutch
hard at the bearers of the chattis (water-jars —
young folk full of the pride of life, she meant; but
the pun is clumsy). When one cannot dance in
the festival one must e'en look out of the window,
and grandmothering takes all a woman's time.
Thy master gives me all the charms I now desire
for my daughter's eldest, by reason — is it ? — that
he is wholly free from sin. The bahi?n is brought
very low these days. He goes about poisoning
my servants for lack of their betters."
" What haki?n, mother ? "
" That very Dacca man who gave me the pill
which rent me in three pieces. He cast up like a
strayed camel a week ago, vowing that he and thou
had been blood-brothers together up Kulu-way,
and feigning great anxiety for thy health. He
454
KIM
was very thin and hungry, so I gave orders to have
him stuffed too — him and his anxiety! "
" I would see him if he is here."
" He eats five times a day, and lances boils for
my hinds to save himself from an apoplexy.
He is so full of anxiety for thy health that he
sticks to the cook-house door and stays himself
with scraps. He will keep. We shall never get
rid of him,"
"Send him here, mother" — the twinkle re-
turned to Kim's eye for a flash — " and I will try."
" I'll send him, but to chase him off is an ill
turn. At least he had the sense to fish the Holy
One out of the brook; thus, as the Holy One did
not say, acquiring merit."
" He is a very wise hakim. Send him, mother."
" Priest praising priest ? A miracle ! If he is
any friend of thine (ye squabbled at your last
meeting) I'll hale him here with horse-ropes and
— and give him a caste-dinner afterwards, my
son. . . . Get up and see the world ! This lying
abed is the mother of seventy devils . . . my son I
my son ! "
She trotted forth to raise a typhoon off the cook-
house, and almost on her shadow rolled in the
Babu, robed as to the shoulders like a Roman em-
peror, jowled like Titus, bare-headed, with new
patent-leather shoes, in highest condition of fat,
exuding joy and salutations.
455
KIM
" By Jove, Mister O'Hara, but I am jolly glad
to see you. I will kindly shut the door. It is a
pity you are sick. Are you very sick *? "
" The papers — the papers from the hlta. The
maps and the murasla I " He held out the key
impatiently ; for the present need on his soul was
to get rid of the loot.
"You are quite right. That is correct Depart-
mental view to take. You have got everything ? "
"All that was handwritten in the kilta I took.
The rest I threw down the hill." He could hear
the key's grate in the lock, the sticky pull of the
slow-rending oil-cloth, and a quick shuffling of
papers. He had been annoyed out of all reason
by the knowledge that they lay below him through
the sick idle days — a burden incommunicable.
For that reason the blood tingled through his
body, when Hurree, skipping elephantinely, shook
hands again.
" This is fine ! This is finest ! Mister O'Hara !
You have — ha I ha I — swiped the whole bag of
tricks — locks, stocks, and barrels. They told me
it was eight months' work gone up the spouts !
By Jove, how they beat me ! . . . Look, here is
the letter from Hilas ! " He intoned a line or two
of Court Persian, which is the language of author-
ised and unauthorised diplomacy. " Mister Rajah
Sahib has just about put his foot in the holes.
He will have to explain offeecially how the deuce-
456
KIM
an'-all he is writing love-letters to the Czar. And
they are very cunning maps . . . and there is three
or four Prime Ministers of these parts implicated
by the correspondence. By Gad, Sar ! The Brit-
ish Government will change the succession in Hilas
and Bunar, and nominate new heirs to the throne.
* Trea-son most base ' . . . but you do not under-
stand? Eh?"
" Are they in thy hands ? " said Kim. It was
all he cared for,
" Just you jolly well bet yourself they are." He
stowed the entire trove about his body, as only
Orientals can. " They are going up to the office,
too. The old lady thinks I am permanent fixture
here, but I shall go away with these straight off —
immediately. Mister Lurgan will be proud man.
You are offeecially subordinate to me, but I shall
embody your name in my verbal report. It is a
pity we are not allowed written reports. We Ben-
galis excel in thee exact science." He tossed back
the key and showed the box empty.
"Good. That is good. I was very tired. My
Holy One was sick, too. And did he fall into — "
"Oah yess. I am his good friend, I tell you.
He was behaving very strange when I came down
after you, and I thought perhaps he might have
the papers. I followed him on his meditations,
and to discuss ethnological points also. You see,
I am verree small person here nowadays, in com-
457
KIM
parison with all his charms. By Jove, O'Hara, do
you know, he is afflicted with infirmity of fits.
Yess, I tell you. Cataleptic, too, if not also
epileptic. I found him in such a state under a
tree in artiado mortem^ and he jumped up and
walked into a brook, and he was nearly drowned
but for me. I pulled him out."
" Because I was not there I " said Kim. " He
might have died,"
"Yes, he might have died, but he is dry now,
and asserts he has undergone transfiguration." The
Babu tapped his forehead knowingly. " I took
notes of his statements for Royal Society — in posse.
You must make haste and be quite well and
come back to Simla, and I will tell you all my tale
at Lurgan's. It was splendid. The bottoms of their
trousers were quite torn, and old Nahan Rajah, he
thought they were European soldiers deserting."
" Oh, the Russians *? How long were they with
thee % "
"One was a Frenchman. Oh, days and days
and days I Now all the hill-people believe all
Russians are all beggars. By Jove I they had not
one dam-thing that I did not get them. And I
told the common people — oah, svch tales and
anecdotes ! I will tell you at old Lurgan's when
you come up. We will have — ah — a night out I
It is feather in both our caps I Yess, and they
gave me a certificate. That is creaming joke.
458
KIM
You should have seen them at the Alliance Bank
identifying themselves I And thank Almighty God
you got their papers so well ! You do not laugh
verree much, but you shall laugh when you are well.
Now I will go straight to the railway and get out.
You shall have all sorts of credits for your game.
When do you come along? We are very proud
of you though you gave us great frights. And
especially Mahbub,"
"Ay, Mahbub. And where is he ? "
"Selling horses in this vi-cinity, of course."
" Here ! Why ? Speak slowly. There is a
thickness in my head still."
The Babu looked shyly down his nose. "Well,
you see, I am fearful man, and I do not like
responsibility. You were sick, you see, and I did
not know where deuce-an'-all the papers were,
and if so, how many. So when I had come down
here I slipped in private wire to Mahbub — he was
at Meerut for races — and I tell him how case
stands. He comes up with his men and he
consorts with the lama, and then he calls me a
fool, and is very rude — "
" But wherefore — wherefore ? "
" That is what / ask. I only suggest that if
any one steals the papers I should like some good,
strong, brave men to rob them back again. You
see they are vitally important, and Mahbub Ali he
did not know where you were."
459
KIM
" Mahbub Ali to rob the Sahiba's house ? Thou
art mad, Babu," said Kim with indignation.
" I wanted the papers. Suppose she had stole
them ? It was only practical suggestion, / think.
You are not pleased, eh ? "
A native proverb — unquotable — showed the
blackness of Kim's disapproval.
" Well," — Hurree shrugged his shoulders, —
" there is no accounting for thee taste. Mahbub
was angry too. He has sold horses all about here,
and he says old lady is pukka (thorough) old lady
and would not condescend to such ungentlemanly
things. / do not care. I have got the papers, and
I was very glad of moral support from Mahbub.
I tell you I am fearful man, but, somehow or
other, the more fearful I am the more dam-tight
places I get into. So I was glad you came with
me to Chini, and I am glad Mahbub was close by.
The old lady she is sometimes very rude to me
and my beautiful pills."
"Allah be merciful," said Kim on his elbow,
rejoicing. " What a beast of wonder is a Babu I
And that man walked alone — if he did walk —
with robbed and angry foreigners I "
"Oah, thatt was nothing, after they had done
beating me ; but if I lost the papers it was pretty
jolly serious. Mahbub he nearly beat me too, and
he went and consorted with the lama no end. I
shall stick to ethnological investigations hencefor-
460
KIM
wards. Now good-bye, Mister O'Hara. I can
catch 4.25 P.M. to Umballa if I am quick. It will
be good times when we all tell thee tale up at
Mister Lurgan's. I shall report you ofFeecially
better. Good-bye, my dear fallow, and when next
you are under thee emotions please do not use the
Mohammedan terms with the Tibet dress."
He shook hands twice — a Babu to his boot-
heels — and opened the door. With the fall of the
sunlight upon his still triumphant face he returned
to the humble Dacca quack.
" He robbed them," thought Kim, forgetting
his own share in the game. " He tricked them.
He lied to them like a Bengali. They give him a
chit (a testimonial). He makes them a mock at
the risk of his life — / never would have gone down
to them after the pistol-shots — and then he says he
is a fearful man. . . . And he is a fearful man.
I must get into the world again."
At first his legs bent like bad pipe-stems, and
the flood and rush of the sunlit air dazzled him.
He squatted by the white wall, the mind rummag-
ing among the incidents of the long ^<?<?// journey,
the lama's weaknesses, and, now that the stimulus
of talk was removed, his own self-pity, of which,
like the sick, he had great store. The unnerved
brain edged away from all the outside, as a raw
horse, once rowelled, sidles from the spur. It was
enough, amply enough, that the spoil of the kilta
461
KIM
was away — off his hands — out of his possession.
He tried to think of the lama, — to wonder why he
had tumbled into a brook, — but the bigness of the
world, seen between the forecourt gates, swept
linked thought aside. Then he looked upon the
trees and the broad fields, with the thatched huts
hidden among crops — looked with strange eyes
unable to take up the size and proportion and use
of things — stared for a still half-hour. All that
while he felt, though he could not put it into
words, that his soul was out of gear with its sur-
roundings — a cog-wheel unconnected with any
machinery, just like the idle cog-wheel of a cheap
Beheea sugar-crusher laid by in a corner. The
breezes fanned over him, the parrots shrieked at
him, the noises of the populated house behind —
squabbles, orders, and reproofs — hit on dead ears.
"I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?"
His soul repeated it again and again.
He did not want to cry, — had never felt less like
crying in his life, — but of a sudden easy, stupid
tears trickled down his nose, and with an almost
audible click he felt the wheels of his being lock up
anew on the world without. Things that rode
meaningless on the eyeball an instant before slid into
proper proportion. Roads were meant to be walked
upon, houses to be lived in, cattle to be driven,
fields to be tilled, and men and women to be talked
to. They were all real and true — solidly planted
462
KIM
upon the feet — perfectly comprehensible — clay
of his clay, neither more nor less. He shook him-
self like a dog with a flea in his ear, and rambled
out of the gate. Said the Sahiba, to whom watch-
ful eyes reported this move: "Let him go. I have
done my share. Mother Earth must do the rest.
When the Holy One comes back from meditation,
tell him."
There stood an empty bullock-cart on a little
knoll half a mile away, with a young banian-tree
behind — a look-out, as it were, above some new-
ploughed levels ; and his eyelids, bathed in soft air,
grew heavy as he neared it. The ground was good
clean dust — no new herbage that, living, is half-
way to death already, but the hopeful dust that
holds the seed of all life. He felt it between his
toes, patted it with his palms, and joint by joint,
sighing luxuriously, laid him down full length
along in the shadow of the wooden-pinned cart.
And Mother Earth was as faithful as the Sahiba.
She breathed through him to restore the poise he
had lost lying so long on a cot cut off from her
good currents. His head lay powerless upon her
breast, and his opened hands surrendered to her
strength. The many-rooted tree above him, and
even the dead man-handled wood beside, knew
what he sought, as he himself did not know.
Hour upon hour he lay deeper than sleep.
Towards evening, when the dust of returning
4^3
KIM
kine made all the horizons smoke, came the
hima and Mahbub Ali, both afoot, walking cau-
tiously, for the house had told them where he had
gone.
" Allah I What a fool's trick to play in open
country," muttered the horse-dealer. " He could
be shot a hundred times — but this is not the
Border."
" And," said the lama, repeating a many-times-
told tale, "never was such a chela. Temperate,
kindly, wise, of ungrudging disposition, a merry
heart upon the road, never forgetting, learned,
truthful, courteous. Great is his reward I "
" I know the boy — as I have said."
" And he was all those things ? "
*' Some of them — but I have not yet found a
Red Hat's charm for making him overly truthful.
He has certainly been well nursed."
" The Sahiba is a heart of gold," said the lama
earnestly. " She looks upon him as her son."
" Hmph I Half Hind seems that-way disposed.
I only wished to see that the boy had come to no
harm and was a free agent. As thou knowest, he
and I were old friends in the first days of your pil-
grimage together."
" That is a bond between us." The lama sat
down. " We are at the end of the pilgrimage."
"No thanks to thee thine was not cut off for
good and all a week back. I heard what the Sa-
464
KIM
hiba said to thee when we bore thee up on the
cot." Mahbub laughed, and tugged his new-dyed
beard.
" I was meditating upon other matters that tide.
It was the hahim from Dacca broke my meditations."
" Otherwise " — this was in Pashtu for decency's
sake — " thou wouldst have ended thy meditations
upon the sultry side of Hell — being an unbeliever
and an idolater for all thy child's simplicity. But
now, Red Hat, what is to be done % "
" This very night," — the words came slowly,
vibrating with triumph, — " this very night he will
be as free as I am from all taint of sin — assured
as I am when he quits this body of Freedom from
the Wheel of Things. I have a sign," he laid
his hand above the torn chart in his bosom, " that
my time is short ; but I shall have safe-guarded
him throughout the years. Remember, I have
reached Knowledge, as I told thee only three
nights back."
" It must be true, as the Tirah priest said when
I stole his cousin's wife, that I am a siifi (a free-
thinker) ; for here I sit," said Mahbub to himself,
drinking in blasphemy unthinkable. "... I re-
member the tale. On that, then, he goes to
Jaiinatii VAdii (the Gardens of Eden). But
how *? Wilt thou slay him or drown him in that
wonderful river from which the Babu dragged
thee ? "
465
KIM
" I was dragged from no river," said the lama
simply. "Thou hast forgotten what befell. I found
it by Knowledge."
" Oh, ay. True," stammered Mahbub, divided
between high indignation and enormous mirth. " I
had forgotten the exact run of what happened. Thou
didst find it knowingly."
"And to say that I would take life is — not a
sin, but a madness simple. My ckela aided me to
the River. It is his right to be cleansed from sin —
with me."
"Ay, he needs cleansing. But afterwards, old
man — afterwards ? "
" What matter under all the heavens ? He is
sure of Nibban — enlightened — as I am."
" Well said. I had a fear he might mount
Mohammed's Horse and fly away."
"Nay — he must go forth as a teacher."
" Aha ! Now I see ! That is the right gait for
the colt. Certainly he must go forth as a teacher.
He is somewhat urgently needed as a scribe by the
State, for instance."
" To that end he was prepared. I acquired
merit in that I gave alms for his sake. A good
deed does not die. He aided me in my Search. I
aided him in his. Just is the Wheel, O horse-
seller from the North. Let him be a teacher ;
let him be a scribe — what matter ? He will have
attained Freedom at the end. The rest is illusion."
466
KIM
"What matter? When I must have him
with me beyond Balkh in six months I I come
up with ten lame horses and three strong-backed
men — thanks to that chicken of a Babu — to
break a sick boy by force out of an old trot's
house. It seems that I stand by while a young
Sahib is hoisted into Allah knows what of an
idolater's heaven by means of old Red Hat. And
I am reckoned something of a player of the Game
myself I But the madman is fond of the boy ; and
I must be very reasonably mad too."
" What is the prayer ? " said the lama, as the
rough Pashtu rumbled into the red beard.
" No matter at all ; but now I understand that
the boy, sure of Paradise, can yet enter Govern-
ment service, my mind is easier. I must get to
my horses. It grows dark. Do not wake him.
I have no wish to hear him call thee master."
" But he is my disciple. What else? "
" He has told me." Mahbub choked down
his touch of spleen and rose laughing. " I am not
altogether of thy faith. Red Hat — if so small a
matter concern thee."
" It is nothing," said the lama.
" I thought not. Therefore it will not move
thee, sinless, new-washed and three parts drowned
to boot, when I call thee a good man — a very
good man. We have talked together some four
or five evenings now, and for all I am a horse-
467
KIM
coper I can still, as the saying is, see holiness
beyond the legs of a horse. Yea, can see, too,
how our Friend of all the World put his hand
in thine at the first. Use him well, and suffer him
to return to the world as a teacher, when thou hast
— bathed his legs, if that be the proper medicine
for the colt."
" Why not follow the Way thyself, and so
accompany the boy ? "
Mahbub stared stupefied at the magnificent
insolence of the demand, which across the Border
he would have paid with more than a blow.
Then the humour of it touched his worldly soul.
" Softly — softly — one foot at a time, as the
lame gelding went over the Umballa jumps. I
may come to Paradise later — I have workings
that way — great motions — and I owe them to
thy simplicity. Thou hast never lied *? "
'•What need?"
" O Allah, hear him ! ' What need ' in this
Thy world I Nor ever harmed a man ? "
" Once — with a pencase — before I was wise."
"So*? I think the better of thee. Thy teach-
ings are good. Thou hast turned one man that
I know from the path of strife." He laughed
immensely. "He came here open-minded to
commit a dacoity (a house-robbery with violence).
Yes, to cut, rob, kill, and carry off what he
desired."
468
KIM
" A great foolishness ! "
" Oh I black shame too. So he thought after
he had seen thee — and a few others, male and
female. So he abandoned it ; and now he goes to
beat a big fat Babu man."
" I do not understand."
"Allah forbid it! Some men are strong in
knowledge, Red Hat. Thy strength is stronger
still. Keep it — I think thou wilt. If the boy be
not a good servant, pull his ears off."
With a hitch of his broad Bokhariot belt the
Pathan swaggered off into the gloaming, and the
lama came down from his clouds so far as to look
at the broad back.
" That person lacks courtesy, and is deceived
by the shadow of appearances. But he spoke
well of my chela^ who now enters upon his reward.
Let me make the prayer! . . . Wake, O fortu-
nate above all born of women. Wake ! It is
found ! "
Kim came up from those deep wells, and the
lama attended his yawning pleasure ; duly snap-
ping fingers to head off evil spirits.
"I have slept a hundred years. Where — ?
Holy One, hast thou been here long"? I went out
to look for thee, but " — he laughed drowsily — " I
slept by the way. I am all well now. Hast thou
eaten '? Let us go to the house. It is many days
since I tended thee. And the Sahiba fed thee
469
KIM
well? Who shampooed thy legs? What of the
weaknesses — the belly and the neck, and the
beating in the ears?"
" Gone — all gone. Dost thou not know ? "
" I know nothing, but that I have not seen thee
in a monkey's age. Know what ? "
" Strange the knowledge did not reach out to
thee, when all my thoughts were theeward."
" I cannot see the face, but the voice is like a
gong. Has the Sahiba made a young man of thee
by her cookery ? "
He peered at the cross-legged figure, outlined
jet-black against the lemon-coloured drift of light.
So does the stone Bodhisat sit who looks down
upon the patent self-registering turnstiles of the
Lahore Museum.
The lama held his peace. Except for the click
of the rosary and a faint clop-clop of Mahbub's re-
treating feet, the soft, smoky silence of evening in
India wrapped them close.
" Hear me I I bring news."
" But let us — "
Out shot the long yellow hand compelling
silence. Kim tucked his feet under his robe-edge
obediently.
" Hear me I I bring news I The Search is
finished. Comes now the Reward. . . . Thus.
When we were among the Hills, I lived on thy
strength till the young branch bowed and nigh
470
KIM
broke. When we came out of the Hills, I was
troubled for thee and for other matters which I
held in my heart. The boat of my soul lacked
direction; I could not see into the Cause of
Things. So I gave thee over to the virtuous
woman altogether. I took no food. I drank no
water. Still I saw not the Way. They pressed
food upon me and cried at my shut door. So I
removed myself to a hollow under a tree. I took
no food. I took no water. I sat in meditation
two days and two nights, abstracting my mind ;
inbreathing and outbreathing in the required
manner. . . . Upon the second night — so great
was my reward — the wise Soul loosed itself from
the silly Body and went free. This I have never
before attained, though I have stood on the thresh-
old of it. Consider, for it is a marvel ! "
" A marvel indeed. Two days and two nights
without food ! Where was the Sahiba '^ " said Kim
under his breath.
" Yea, my Soul went free, and, wheeling like an
eagle, saw indeed that there was no Teshoo Lama
nor any other soul. As a drop draws to water, so
my soul drew near to the Great Soul which is be-
yond all things. At that point, exalted in con-
templation, I saw all Hind, from Ceylon in the sea
to the Hills, and my own Painted Rocks at Such-
zen ; I saw every camp and village, to the least,
where we have ever rested. I saw them at one
KIM
time and in one place; for they were within the
Soul. By this I knew the Soul had passed beyond
the illusion of Time and Space and of Things.
By this I knew that I was free. I saw thee lying
in thy cot, and I saw thee falling down hill under
the idolater — at one time, in one place, in my
Soul, which, as I say, had touched the Great Soul.
Also I saw the stupid body of Teshoo Lama lying
down, and the hakim from Dacca kneeled beside,
shouting in its ear. Then my Soul was all alone,
and I saw nothing, for I was all things, having
reached the Great Soul. And I meditated a thou-
sand thousand years, passionless, well aware of the
Causes of all Things. Then a voice cried: 'What
shall come to the boy if thou art dead? ' and I was
shaken back and forth in myself with pity for thee;
and I said : ' I will return to my chela^ lest he miss
the Way.' Upon this my Soul, which is the soul
of Teshoo Lama, withdrew itself from the Great
Soul with strivings and yearnings and retchings
and agonies not to be told. As the egg from the
fish, as the fish from the water, as the water from
the cloud, as the cloud from the thick air, so put
forth, so leaped out, so drew away, so fumed up
the soul of Teshoo Lama from the Great Soul.
Then a voice cried: 'The River I Take heed to
the River I' and I looked down upon all the world,
which was as I had seen it before — one in time,
one in place — and I saw plainly the River of the
472
THE END OF THE SEARCH
KIM
time and in one place; for they were within the
Soul. By this I knew the Soul had passed beyond
the illusion of Time and Space and of Things.
By this I knew that I was free. I saw thee lying
in thy cot, and I saw thee falling down hill under
the idolater — at one time, in one place, in my
Soul, which, as I say, had touched the Great Soul.
Also I saw the stupid body of Teshoo Lama lying
down, and the hakitn from Dacca kneeled beside,
shouting in its ear. Then my Soul was all alone,
and I saw nothing, for I was all things, having
reached the Great Soul. And I meditated a thou-
sand thousand years, passionless, well aware of the
Causes of all Things. Then a voice cried: 'What
shall come to the boy if thou art dead*?' and I was
shaken back and forth in myself with pity for thee;
and I said : ' I will return to my chela^ lest he miss
the Way.' Upon this my Soul, which is the soul
of Teshoo Lama, withdrew itself from the Great
Soul with strivings and yearnings and retchings
and agonies not to be told. As the egg from the
fish, as the fish from the water, as the water from
the cloud, as the cloud from the thick air, so put
forth, so leaped out, so drew away, so fumed up
the soul of Teshoo Lama from the Great Soul.
Then a voice cried: 'The River! Take heed to
tlie River I' and I looked down upon all the world,
which was as I had seen it before — one in time.
one in pl^^^SS^a^^S^^S fel^^^^'" ^^'^^
'h>'b:
' -^•'v.,,
;?i! ■i
V •-
O' ll,<^
KIM
Arrow at my feet. At that hour my Soul was
hampered by some evil or other whereof I was
not wholly cleansed, and it lay upon my arms and
coiled round my waist; but I put it aside, and I
cast forth as an eagle in my flight for the very
place of the River. I pushed aside world upon
world for thy sake. I saw the River below me —
the River of the Arrow — and, descending, the
waters of it closed over me; and behold I was
again in the body of Teshoo Lama, but free from
sin, and the haki?n from Dacca bore up my head in
the waters of the River. It is here I It is behind
the mango-tope here — even here! "
" Allah Kerim ! Oh, well that the Babu was by I
Wast thou very wet ? "
" Why should I regard ? I remember the
haM?n was concerned for the body of Teshoo
Lama. He haled it out of the holy water in his
hands, and there came afterwards thy horse-seller
from the North with a cot and men, and they put
the body on the cot and bore it up to the Sahiba's
house."
" What said the Sahiba ? "
" I was meditating in that body, and did not
hear. So thus the Search is ended. For the
merit that I have acquired, the River of the Arrow
is here. It broke forth at our feet, as I have said.
I have found it. Son of my Soul, I have wrenched
my Soul back from the Threshold of Freedom to
473
KIM
free thee from all sin — as I am free, and sinless.
Just is the Wheel! Certain is our deliverance.
Come ! "
He crossed his hands on his lap and smiled, as
a man may who has won Salvation for himself
and his beloved.
THE END
474
L 1
^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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